A Little Bit More
by THE Shadow Omega
Summary: YAOI After departing Arlong Park, the seeds of attraction are planted between Sanji and Zoro. Can love survive Sanji's misgivings, and can Zoro's ambition survive love?
1. Chapter One

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter One

With all the romance and legend associated with a life at sea, the tales rarely took the time to mention the incredible mental and emotional strain of being around the same people, in the same place, day after day for what seemed like eternities at a time.

It was the life they had come to foster and mold, though, to their own liking. Amidst the occasional squabbles the entire crew found that they were all keen enough to understand the little invisible lines which they drew for one another-what was to be said, how different situations were to be treated. The rapport was boring, but it was better than any major turmoil Sanji could figure. 

The voyage from Arlong Park to Loguetown was shaping up to be long and uneventful, for the most part. In between the odd ill-conceived attack there was little to do but acclimate oneself to the living arrangements, make oneself comfortable, and try not to focus too much on the little insecurities. 

Unfortunately, midnight was one of those times meant only for focusing, only for the nagging little insecurities that gnawed impatiently on the brain, denying sleep. Sanji found himself on the upper deck, staring East, leeward so the smoke didn't blow back into his eyes. The chill of the night air didn't faze him; in fact he preferred the cold. But little was fazing him in that peculiar state he found himself, sleepless and wondering so many things. 

It was why he had needed Baratie so badly; the dedication and hassle of a full-time work environment helped to keep him from thinking too much and letting his mind run away with him. There, he was at liberty to be carefree, masking any deeper thought with food, wine, and women. 

"Heh," he smirked to himself, shaking his head only slightly. Women. Gorgeous creatures, whether smiling or scowling, laughing or crying. He admired their sensibility, their tendency to appreciate things at more than just face value. And now to be on this ship with a woman like Nami--a woman who faced battle with brains, standing confident even when she was bloody and defeated. It captivated him at the same time that he knew he would never be good enough for someone so strong.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his face vigorously. He had been accused, often in a teasing manner by those who were intimidated by his popularity, of trying to emulate a woman rather than win one. In so many ways, it was true. Even when he felt so much passion in his heart for someone like Nami, the feelings grew sketchier as he considered them more. The deeper he examined her psyche and her soul, the more he wondered what things he would trust her with, what secrets and weaknesses...and even then, he wondered if someone like her would appreciate all these late-night insecurities of his. 

Never had Sanji been out to win anyone. The admiration he adored, and the jealous looks in other men's eyes sometimes only egged him on. But when it all boiled down, it was almost always for the satisfaction it gave him when he sat alone at the end of the day. _Blasted insecure Sanji,_ he chastised himself with another smirk, _can't even open your eyes without your ego getting in the way._

His nakama on the _Going Merry _were bringing out his best and worst simultaneously, forcing him to break those habits of fly-by-night seduction and wanton disregard for the feelings of others. Those lines. Those lines everyone had laid out. He couldn't believe the respect the crew had for each other, even with all the bickering and annoyances. 

In fact, he felt very comfortable with everyone on board. Comfortable that they knew him well enough to know when to shut up, and when to badger him until he finally said what was the matter. He was a water sign, after all. The moodiness was only as strong as the determination of those around him to quell it. 

But the swordsman...

His smirk turned into a momentary sneer, and he brushed a few ashes from the knee of his trousers. Roronoa Zoro had disliked him from the beginning, but why? He knew the dislike couldn't run as deep as all that, not personally or emotionally. But there was an innate tension between them, something that only made their interaction harder and less natural. Sanji simply wouldn't stand for not understanding how to play off of someone else's conception of him. He was determined to know, before they hit Loguetown, before they faced the Grand Line, if their differences were deep enough to belie any exchange of kind words or even a comfortable silence.

Thinking alone on a sleepless night certainly wouldn't do him any good, he knew very well. But there was little else he could do. The minute he walked below deck Zoro would be the first to be disturbed. _That bastard,_ he exhaled twin plumes of smoke through his nose and scowled, _he can sleep through anything during the daytime, but heaven forbid I should disturb his sleep at night..._

Rolling his eyes, he leaned back and scolded himself again. _I shouldn't be thinking about him so much, _he thought firmly, _I should just keep thinking about women...or something..._

But women were easy to understand. He'd always been able to identify with them, somehow. It accounted for a lot of his charm, but kept so many people, male or female, preyed-upon or otherwise, from taking him seriously. He was shortsighted and wishy-washy, overanalytical and hopelessly romantic. 

_In other words, _he suddenly found himself thinking, _I'm everything Roronoa Zoro is not. _

The revelation actually made him smile, and as his cigarette pointed up toward the stars he congratulated himself on a personality distinction well-solved. He would have to remember that. Possibly it was that Zoro didn't respect Sanji thanks to his immature emotions, or maybe it was resentment that, being contender for the world's greatest swordsman and all, he didn't have the same freedom of flightiness at his disposal.

Whatever it was, realizing their difference made him feel a little better, and suddenly brought the weight of sleepiness upon him. He shrugged his shoulders and realized how long he had been topside. His fingers were nearly numb from the cold, and he was struggling to maintain his alertness by the time he crept below deck. 

It took all the stealth he possessed to try and make it to bed without incident. As he wiggled noiselessly between his hammock and Ussop's splayed limbs, he cringed at the sleeping figure of Zoro and waited...though he was silent as the grave it would be any second now...

The moment his hand touched the hammock and he attempted to flop into it, a single green eye wrenched open and trained upon him immediately. Sanji's tension deflated and he sighed in dismay. 

"Hnnnn." Zoro's eye fluttered shut again, and he scowled visibly. Sanji tried not to notice it, and rolled exhausted into his hammock. As he swayed lightly with the shift of his weight, he could simply tell that the body less than three feet away was still awake. 

"Stop waking me up all the time." Zoro murmured, the articulation barely understood over the rumble of his naturally low voice. 

"I didn't make a sound, you're just a light sleeper." Sanji replied, though he already knew his best defense would have probably been a brazen insult or dismissal. 

"You're awfully catty tonight." He breathed, and Sanji heard him roll over, the hammock's stays making quiet sounds of stress as he did.

"Shut up." Was the best reply he could think of, before his eyes closed on their own, pulling him under whether he wanted to welcome sleep or keep exchanging barbs. 

~*~*~

The late nights often led to oversleeping, and the next morning was no exception. After a rude awakening and several impatient demands for breakfast, Sanji finally managed to appreciate what turned out to be a beautiful day. He found a spot on the deck that was shaded by the cabin's overhang, and stole a moment for himself as he began to mentally prepare the evening's supper. 

"Move," Only moments after he had drifted into a pleasant state of woolgathering, Zoro's voice roughly interrupted, and a boot nudged his shin, "your legs take up the whole deck."

"And apparently you can't step over them," Sanji growled gently, moving begrudgingly into a cross-legged position. As Zoro strode past, he found himself calling after him, "oi, Zoro." 

Zoro had one eyebrow raised in ennui as he turned back, probably expecting a clincher insult or a similar jab. But his expression tightened into something more interested when Sanji asked, "Why do you hate me?" 

He turned around, undeniably confused but unable to dismiss the question. Crossing his arms over his chest, Zoro made the most of his looming stature over Sanji's sitting figure. He smirked cruelly and chuckled. "Because you're annoying." 

"No, I'm not joking right now." He had a tendency to be curt and dry, true, but when Sanji wanted to be taken seriously it wasn't a difficult task. As he cupped his hands over his mouth to light a fresh cigarette, Zoro's eyebrow returned to its former, upturned state, "siddown."

"You're such a drama queen." Zoro sighed blankly, hissing out the side of his mouth as he made a motion to walk off again. 

"And I can do terrible things to your food without your knowledge. Now sit."

Though he was obviously still reluctant, and a bit humiliated to be subjected to such an injustice as _talking, _Zoro plopped down and glared at Sanji expectantly. 

"Wow," Sanji said, his face alight with self-satisfaction, "that was easier than I expected."

Indeed, it was the first step (albeit a small one) he had taken toward anything resembling 'private interaction' with Zoro since their first meeting. 

Zoro pulled a face and tried his best to look righteously indignant, but Sanji wouldn't let him respond with words just yet. He went on, "I just get the feeling you don't like me, is all." 

"You're deranged," Zoro threw a sidelong glance in the other direction and sneered, "what do you want, candy and flowers?" 

"Just an idea of where we stand. What our lines are." 

"What do you mean, lines?" Zoro was not a man who thought in psychological terms very often, Sanji could tell. He may have been intelligent enough to come this far in life, but he certainly wasn't the introspective sort.

"Well, we all have these little barriers that are the guidelines for our relationships, you know?" 

"We don't have a relationship." 

"We're nakama." Sanji snapped gently. For a moment it scared him that he was starting to sound like Luffy. He must have taken on quite the intimidating look when he said this, because it chased Zoro's indignant expression away as if on cue. With an accepting nod, Zoro got a little more comfortable and told him to go on. 

"Like, for instance," Sanji went on, "I love Nami, right?" 

Zoro snorted. Sanji tried his best to ignore it. After all, Zoro was the last person who was likely to understand romance, much less unrequited love. "But I know I can't act on that...not just because I'm a gentleman, but because I know it would make things...well...weird. And Luffy and I, we get along fine. He's impervious to my insults and sarcasm so I'm free to simply be myself," he coughed into his hand and tried to deny what that said about his personality, "Ussop is like a puppy, you just have to learn to like him, and once you do he's sort of indispensable. But he knows exactly when to leave me alone before I put a fork in his hand....you know? Hey...hey! Zoro!" 

He had fallen asleep. 

Sanji poked him squarely, firmly, in the ribs, which had Zoro up in a flash, shaking his head and growling. "That was unnecessary! Bastard."

"You fell asleep while I was trying to discuss something serious!" 

"You were saying something about Luffy and insults." Zoro sighed, in a vain attempt to convince Sanji that he had been listening. 

Sanji sighed dramatically and cut to the point, trying to retain what shred of earnestness he had left. "But with you, I....I guess I just don't know whether you're comfortable around me or not." 

"Me?" Zoro shrugged and leaned back, stretching out until he was lying on his back, obviously intent on sleeping again. "I'm absolutely fine with you. Like I said, you're a drama queen, but other than that I'm fine," he shot Sanji a hard glare, "maybe you're the one who's uncomfortable."

"Hm," Sanji considered this for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair as he nursed the cigarette in his mouth, "I suppose you've got that right. I just wish I knew why." 

"Eh, that's easy. I'm the better fighter, so you feel inadequate by comparison." 

"Heh, so it comes down to that, does it? I'd like to see you cook for five one of these days." 

"Well then maybe it's because I'm more confident." 

_Ouch. _

"Well, I certainly seem to be more popular with the ladies." 

"Maybe I don't need that distraction in my life." 

At this, Sanji sighed, and decided that the conversation was leading to a point where he wanted to sacrifice the meaningless repartee for another moment of actual thought. He glanced down at Zoro and shifted his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other. After a moment, he flicked the unfinished butt over the railing and flopped down onto his back as well. 

Zoro gave a smug smile, as if winning some subtle victory. "What, didn't get enough sleep last night?" 

"Nighttime is the only time I can think without being interrupted by idiots." 

"You're not being interrupted now. They're all too busy learning how to play Go with Nami. And losing." 

"Okay, then I'm being interrupted by idiot, singular." 

"You're the one who wanted to talk." 

"True, I did." He felt a little helpless without the cigarette to punctuate his sentence.

"Why are you so concerned about how we get along, anyway? We're both in this crew, we're working for the good of the same whole. It's not like we need to host parties together or  anything." 

"Yeah," Sanji was not assuaged by his words, and in fact was inexplicably more depressed by them, "I just feel like I'm friends with everyone else, but...you're more distant."

"I prefer the term 'mysterious'." 

"I prefer the term 'idiot'."

"Yes, I know," Zoro actually chuckled, "let me just put it this way: if I didn't consider you _my _friend, this conversation would have ended a long time ago."

"It isn't just the obligation of being nakama?" 

Zoro was silent for a few moments. Together they stared up at the sky and watched the clouds drift lazily. Everything seemed so quiet for a second. Peaceful. If Sanji concentrated he couldn't even hear the shrieks of Luffy and the others, reveling in their own brand of strangeness on the other side of the deck. 

When Sanji realized that they had shared a comfortable silence, he was determined not to be the one to end it. 

Thus, Zoro's voice startled him a bit when he spoke again. "Maybe we don't have any lines." He said, his tone a little too far-off and airy for the remark to have been in jest. 

Sanji waited to respond. A few moments passed, and for good measure he waited a bit longer. "Yeah." He finally sighed. Blankly content with Zoro's assessment, he decided to leave the further introspection for another time. 

Within minutes, Zoro was snoring. 

~*~*~

_Am I....am I _attracted _to him? _

Wide awake, but not quite enough to venture topside. They were in choppy waters and his hammock swayed in brisk, unpredictable spurts as he stared up at the ceiling. The others were sleeping through it rather soundly, and Sanji couldn't help but wonder how Zoro, the usual light night-sleeper, was sawing logs in the next hammock. 

Maybe the others didn't have such strange thoughts to keep them awake. 

_Of course I'm not! He doesn't turn me on, I've never felt anything but the basic stuff about him...nothing that would even border on desire!_

But it was a lie, and Sanji knew it. Frankly, he hadn't seen much in all his years, despite his storied life. The Baratie was a boring place to grow up and live, and interactions with customers were transitory things. Interactions with women were even more fleeting, as Sanji fell easily into the role of the gigolo, suave and seductive but ultimately alone. Ultimately nothing but the punchline of so many jokes. He was the kid on board, and always remained that way. _Chibi nasu.. _

It was different here. He was an equal. He was treated with the same courtesy and indifference as anyone else, especially when it came to the close quarters they were forced to share. Within weeks nothing was left to the imagination, and Sanji couldn't help the nagging fear that he was lingering a little too long on those memories.

_Well, sure he _is _attractive, and he knows it. He practically throws it in our faces, even if it isn't on purpose. I'm comfortable enough to admit when another man looks good._

And just as soon as he even considered it, there was the image, in his mind again, clear as the day had been. Zoro, naked as a jaybird, lounging on the deck in the late morning sun. It had taken all the composure Sanji possessed not to shriek out loud at the sight. Luffy and Ussop had been practically comical to his eyes when they first stripped in his presence, so why was Zoro any different?

_"Maybe it's because I'm more confident."_

Those words were stinging, and Sanji knew they were true, incredibly true to the point that it angered him with jealousy. Zoro was a beautiful man, there were no two ways about it. He was nonchalant about his magnetism, practically oblivious. Sanji struck poses, primped for appearance's sake, but even he couldn't work to pull off the casual, smoldering sensuality that Zoro did, simply sitting there on the deck, wearing nothing but the sunshine, impatient for his clothes to be dry again. 

_I admire him, that's all. I'm jealous and I want to have that sort of natural mystique. That's all. _He was trying too hard to convince himself, and he knew that meant trouble.  

He had stared a little too long, seen a little too much, and now he remembered it a little too fondly for it to be simple admiration. It would certainly explain his insecurities around Zoro. His inability to come to terms with their interaction. The seeming nonexistence of their lines. 

The sound of the wind outside was distracting when it mixed with his thoughts, and he hadn't noticed the snores next to him had stopped abruptly. When he turned his head to test himself with a quick glimpse at Zoro, Sanji was absolutely stunned to see the swordsman wide awake, staring right back at him. 

"Why are you always up at night?" Zoro asked softly, looking at Sanji as if to say how odd he considered him. 

Sanji clutched his chest and panted, trying his best not to speak too loudly. "Bastard! You almost gave me a heart attack!" 

"You're the one who turned around."

He always said the most sensible things to stop Sanji's arguments dead in their tracks. Blowing the displaced blonde hair back into place, he grimaced in feigned anger. Really, it was humiliation that was wracking him. Had Zoro seen the wistful look on his face when he turned over? It felt like his mind had been read, like some sacred territory had been trod upon. Sanji felt in that moment like Zoro knew everything. And that made him nervous.

"Why were you staring at me?" Sanji asked quizzically. 

"I was facing this way," He replied, propping up slightly to look at Sanji with both eyes, "I can't sleep with all this movement. It's enough to make me sick." 

"Bah, this is nothing," Sanji was used to the bucking and tossing of the sea. Sometimes he had to pause and remember that Zoro had built his entire legend in less than five years on the ocean. Beyond that, the swordsman was a seasoned landlubber.

"So I asked you," Zoro began again. Sanji's ears burned with embarrassment. He was hoping Zoro had forgotten that question, "why are you always up at night?" 

"I told you today--it's the only time I can think." He checked over his shoulder to confirm that Ussop and Luffy were still asleep, and then looked back at Zoro challengingly.

"What sort of things do _you _think about? Like, cooking things?" 

Sanji resisted the urge to roll his eyes and consider the breath wasted, "I, for one, happen to take the time to examine my own situation. My emotions. My ambitions." 

"Oh, yeah?" Zoro grinned evilly, "I forgot, you're the sensitive type and all that." 

"You should try it sometime, it can really be interesting." 

"Hey, no thanks, I know all I need to know about myself—it's called 'instinct'." 

"Well, some of us just have really bad instincts." Sanji sneered, glancing at the wall.

"And _that, _I can believe." Zoro shifted onto his back, and folded his hands behind his head. This time, Sanji stole a look. A good, long look. 

_What is it that he does to you, Sanji? _He interrogated his own bad instincts, _you throw your defenses up and act like a child. He puts the burner under your insecurities and you don't like it one bit. _

_It's because you want him. _

_Just admit it. And go from there. _

For a few moments longer he kept his eyes on Zoro, whose chest began to fall into a steady, slow rhythm of light sleep. 

And then an almost terrifying thought hit him. _This...happens to men at sea, doesn't it? _

He growled at what was nearly full volume, and flipped around roughly in his hammock, to face the less threatening members of the crew. It was a fitful sleep that eventually came to him. 

~*~*~

Sanji managed to avoid any further awkward moments for the next few days. Secretly he hoped the others didn't notice that he was going out of his way to avoid Zoro, but of course it was more fear than anything else. He felt like an adolescent with an indecisive crush, the way he made it a point to avert his eyes if Zoro ever glanced his way. After a number of days and nights, it was becoming a tiresome chore to be so casual. 

"Sanji," he had been lost in another deep bout of thoughtfulness when he felt Luffy's unmistakably sharp elbow nudge him in the arm, "hey, Sanji." 

"What?" He snapped, turning on him and making a show out of rubbing his arm, as if wounded by the gesture. 

Unfazed, Luffy pointed across the deck. "I can't believe you're not paying attention! I just didn't think you'd want to miss this." 

Sighing, he looked in the direction Luffy was pointing. The sight caught him momentarily like a deer in the headlights, and it took his mind a moment to readjust from the shock. Nami was standing in full view, clutching a wide-brimmed hat to her head with one hand. She was wearing little more than a few strings with convenient pieces of fabric attached. He supposed that sort of thing was what she called a bikini, but that was unimportant. 

His cheeks flushed red immediately, and he melted into the sort of goofy smile that proved mightily that he was still as hot-blooded for the ladies as ever. "Oh, yes, thank you, Luffy." He oozed. 

"She's been standing there for a while now. You've been daydreaming or something." 

"Well, I....I...." he wanted to say something in his defense, but when Nami shifted her back to them and faced the other way, every word he had ever learned suddenly escaped his memory, "hm."

It was a moment that restored all the carefree romanticism to his mind again, renewing his zest for the voyage and pushing aside all his meditations on that boorish, impolite swordsman. He enjoyed the smile, and continued to ogle for as long as he could before he felt an unmistakable urge grip his senses. 

Without a word, he stood up and left Luffy alone on the deck. It had been a relatively long time since he had rubbed one out, not since they had left Arlong Park and _certainly _not since he had started questioning his feelings for Roronoa Zoro. He was delighted to feel the desire coursing through him again, the sort of feeling that made him want to do nothing more than...well...

He sighed. There was certainly something he wanted to do more than spend some quality time with his own hand, but the end result was the same, wasn't it? Besides, he loved Nami too much to even consider stepping over the lines of their friendship.

But damn, there were some times that he wondered how deliberately she was teasing him with no intention of ever being more than that. Just a friend. 

_You're thinking too much again, _he chased the thoughts away, and was below deck within moments. As he slipped through Nami's room on his way to the crew's quarters, he could smell the unmistakable scent of her, and let his mind wander back over the image of the redheaded siren, silhouetted in the bright sun on deck, the bikini strings drowned by the shadows and sunshine so she seemed almost naked in front of him. The fabric riding tightly in the crease of her backside, reminding him only more of how much he loved a woman's curves... 

He was so aroused by the time he shut the door behind him that he nearly flopped into one of the hammocks and jerked off right there. But that didn't seem very smart, or safe. Quickly, without wasting an instant of the beautiful wave of libido he was riding on, he flattened himself against the side of the wall, so he would at least be hidden if the door opened unexpectedly. He closed his eyes.

The fabric of his shirt caught the splinters in the wood as he slid down the wall, making a swishing, gently crackling sound. He opened his pants halfway down, and was already handling his impatient cock  by the time he hit the floor. Stroking frantically, he imagined Nami in ways he was only allowed to imagine while in the quiet seclusion of his own fantasy. Her face led to others, other women he had known, others he had only dreamt about. He turned his face over one shoulder, panting heavily and trying to hold back the little cries of pleasure that so desperately wanted to come out. Sanji closed his eyes tightly and thought of losing his virginity with the tall, black-haired woman wearing the diamond earrings, who had only been a customer at the restaurant for forty-five minutes before she followed him into the service corridor, told him to lock the door, and lifted her skirt without another word.  He had been seventeen.

He put Nami in her place for a moment, and sped his strokes toward orgasm. He couldn't hold back the noise at this point; whimpers were turning to groans, breathy gusts of air to strangled little cries. Usually he would open his eyes, watch himself come, but this time he needed the darkness. He needed his fantasy. Reality was becoming a little too confusing. 

And then, in his mind, there was Zoro's naked body. 

He was so close, riding so tense on the brink of completion, that he didn't even chase the image away. It remained on the forefront of his racing thoughts, the only thing driving him over the edge as he came. Panting, gritting his teeth, groaning as if in the throes of pain, he tried to hold it back, but the only thing that came to mind, the only word that forced itself out of Sanji's mouth was:

"Zoro..."

As the fire of his orgasm settled, his hand slowed down with his heartbeat. His fingers went from slow to unmoving, dripping wet, his erection fading slowly in their grasp.

Sanji scowled at himself, and the embers of the moment burned in a slow, still-frame silence. All at once the magnificent loneliness of the darkened quarters became apparent. He leaned over one knee and pressed a hand to his face. 

_Why can't you admit it? What more proof do you need?_

He kicked forward angrily and only ended up knocking a stray 2x4 askew. Times like these, he wished he could punch a wall. "I know it!" he said softly, all the emotion of a scream stunted into something that was little more than a whisper, "I just....I can't. It can't be this way." 

_It is that way. _

"He wouldn't...it never....no." He buried his head against his knee and clutched it tightly. He had just enjoyed one of the most powerful orgasms of his life, and dancing in his mind at the time had been the image of a man he'd been trying to deny an attraction to. So many things were wrong in his mind, so many things were twisted.

"Damnit..." He started crying out of frustration more than anything; frustration that he couldn't show in front of any of the others, or even channel through a few broken dishes.

The door squeaked open, and he heard footsteps on the floor before he even had his fly zipped up. He knew he looked awful at that moment, hair mussed, tears staining his face, and traces of come all over his trousers. But somehow he hoped someone would come to rescue him, someone he could talk to. Luffy, or Ussop, even Nami for heaven's sake...

_Just please don't let it be him, please don't let it be him..._

"Oi, Sanji," Zoro called into the room, that great booming voice burning Sanji's ears and only forcing more tears to his eyes, "you in here?" 

"Yes." He replied flatly, leaning back against the wall and resigning himself to the fact that, if confrontation was ever meant to happen, maybe it was destined to be now. When he was at his weakest and most vulnerable, yet his most enlightened. 

"Everyone's wondering where you went, what are you—" Zoro looked down at him and suddenly hushed. 

Sanji rubbed the ball of his wrist over one eye, clearing away the tears that wouldn't seem to go dry. He couldn't look up at Zoro, couldn't think of a thing to say that would make a bit of sense. 

"What happened?" Zoro fell to his knees and leaned toward Sanji with nothing but concern. That was the unspoken power of the bond they all shared, that anytime they were in trouble, anytime they seemed to need help, whether physical or emotional, everyone made it their business. 

"Don't tell anyone, Zoro," He growled. Angry at himself. Angry at everything. He wondered how charming it would look to Nami if she saw him right now.

"What? That you're down here? Why?" He reached out and touched Sanji's shoulder. 

When he finally looked up, opening his bloodshot blue eyes to brave Zoro's face, he felt them flood immediately again. Those bad instincts were firing in his brain faster than he could control them, and by the time he drank in Zoro's drawn, sincerely worried expression, he had no idea what he was doing anymore. 

He leaned forward and pursed his lips, able to taste the slightest spice of Zoro's mouth before the swordsman fell back in shock.

"What are you _doing?!" _Zoro cried, scrambling into a cross-legged position a safe distance from Sanji, who made an effort to appear collected, if not particularly calm. 

"Well, you bastard, it was pretty obvious that I just tried to kiss you!" He barked. 

Zoro pulled a face and didn't seem quite sure what to say. Sanji couldn't blame him. He tried to place himself in the other man's shoes, and immediately the inevitability of an unhappy ending became clear. 

Finally, Zoro's green eyes softened, and he smirked broadly. "Oh. Well, that certainly explains what you've been so weird about lately." 

"Yeah, doesn't it, though." 

"I'm flattered." He offered. 

Sanji shoulders tensed at the weight of those crushing words. It was the most polite, tactful, and cruel shut-down in the book. Suddenly he wanted to have never said those words to the women who didn't seem beautiful enough before. 

"Don't worry, I know it's totally insane. Just forget this ever happened, okay?" Sanji blustered shyly, wrapping his arms around his knees and slumping over them. He yearned for a way to make his scowl even deeper. 

What passed between them was an awful, heavy silence. It made Sanji want to scream, anything to break the unbearable torture of waiting for a response.

Stealthily, he shifted his eyes to hazard a sideways glance at Zoro. After a few moments, Zoro lifted his fingers and touched them to his lips, his face as blank and serious as ever. 

"My first kiss." He finally remarked. So simple. 

Sanji's eyes widened, and he was nearly afraid to respond. "Really?" 

"Would I lie about something like that, asshole?" Zoro shot him a poisonous glare, then let out a tiny gust of a breath.

"It wasn't a real kiss. You don't have to count it." Sanji bristled. 

A few moments after he said it, he was convinced Zoro wasn't going to respond. After all, they both had something to say about each other now – if he let on that Sanji desired him, Sanji would blab that he had never been kissed. It seemed fair in the schoolyard sense, but still not in Sanji's heart. Not that any of the others would probably care – Nami could probably tell already, and Luffy probably wouldn't bat an eye. The worst he expected was a snicker, maybe a knowing smirk and a shake of a head. The most torturous teasing would be welcome in place of some well-intentioned pity from the others when Zoro turned him down flat.

Then, before he was aware of what was happening, he felt a monstrous something invade his personal space. A strong, broad hand pushed one of his shoulders against the wall, and the firm, insistent lips of Roronoa Zoro pressed full against his own. 

He was trapped by Zoro's thighs, straddled with his legs to the ground. He was being kissed by another man. Overpowered by another man. Aroused by another man. It felt undeniably _right_. 

It was like breaking the surface for air, and he sucked in a gigantic breath by the time Zoro pulled away. 

"So there, that was a real kiss. Now I can count it." His face was still blank, expressionless, and Sanji wondered to the point of dizziness what was going through the smug bastard's mind.

"Why did you do that?" he finally asked, softly at first, then gaining volume as he went on. Humiliated. Agonizing. Indignant, "this isn't funny, get off of me!" 

"I know it isn't funny, I'm not making any attempt at being funny." 

"You don't know what I've been going through. I've come to terms with it, now you can sod off." Sanji scowled and looked away, anywhere but Zoro's face. No matter how much he wanted to lick his lips, perhaps quell the tingling sensation that kept his entire mouth begging for more. It had seemed right, smelled right, felt right. Zoro was only prolonging his torture. 

When he was just getting impatient enough to fight his way free, he felt a rough forefinger lodge under his throat, and a  thumb press against the knob of his chin. Zoro's hand turned his face back into position, until they were staring each other down. Zoro's green eyes were still softly nonchalant where Sanji's were no doubt something quite different.

"This is purely physical." Zoro said, words that shot lightning into Sanji's heart. It was a warning and an invitation all at once, but it wasn't exactly something he could let go. 

"Yeah, I tried thinking of it that way, too." 

And he had. Over and over. He had desperately wanted to believe that his attraction to Zoro was one of those things that happened to men in the absence of sexual fulfillment for months at sea. But Nami was here. And it hadn't been months. There was nothing to suggest that his feelings were anything short of honest longing for something wholly different, something right in front of him and yet impossible to brave.

"Eh?" 

"It couldn't be purely physical, even if we wanted it to be."

"Why's that?"

"Because we're nakama."

Zoro's face actually tightened in shock when Sanji said this. He pulled back a tiny bit, still keeping his thumb and forefinger hooked dutifully on the other man's stubbly chin. Again, the torturous wait. Sanji kept his eyes focused, knowing it was his turn to be the one in charge of the course of things. _Zoro, I won't let this be something simple for you, either. You value loyalty and discipline. You don't do things without due process of thought. . _

"You're right," he finally bowed his head and half-smiled, "you're perfectly right. This can't be that way."

"But," Sanji quickly stammered, his heartbeat tearing into a sprint as he tried to salvage his chances, "that doesn't mean—" 

Zoro looked up suddenly, his mischievous glare cutting Sanji off. "So we'll be nakama, plus a little bit more." 

He brought his thumb up to Sanji's pouting lower lip, and pulled at it. The rough, calloused skin was a bit scratchy, sending a new sort of sensation all through Sanji's body. He let his mouth fall open at Zoro's bidding, and waited breathless for him to lean in for the kiss. 

This is what it felt like, he suddenly realized. This was his body enjoying letting go. Being under someone else's power.  The sort of surrender he could only give to someone like Zoro. Someone who went into every new challenge with all flags flying, even the art of intimacy. A man who had never been kissed before stepped into that darkened room, and was now kissing Sanji like a well-practiced lover.

"Sanji. Look at me." Zoro suddenly commanded him. The deepness of his voice, and the closeness of his mouth sent vibrations through Sanji's body, made every little blonde hair stand at attention. 

He opened his eyes and realized that his mouth was still open, a little bit stunned by the passionate kiss Zoro had given him. He slowly pursed his lips together again, just as Zoro's fell in little, swiping kisses all over his face, cleaning away the tracks of his tears.

"Don't you ever cry like that again over something so stupid, idiot." Zoro whispered into his ear, drawing an unexpected gasp from his partner. Sanji's hands pulsed and grabbed, his arms curling around Zoro's back, one set of fingers clutching at a handful of warm cotton fabric, the other landing in his short, soft hair. 

"Zoro," Sanji gasped again, as the roving mouth fell past his jawline and onto his neck, "why are you doing this?" 

Zoro paused, but didn't have to think much about his answer. His long, rough fingers ran up and through Sanji's hair on one side, brushing it back to trace an eyebrow with his thumb. He smiled where it curled at the end, and spoke matter-of-factly. "Because we don't have any lines." 

It was the typical sort of romantic answer that would have normally sent Sanji into a state of exaltation. But the timing, the shock, the very suddenness of it all...he had to keep questioning, until he understood. "Are you attracted to me?"

"What are you, stupid?" Zoro's voice rumbled as he sucked absently on the rise of Sanji's clavicle, "I'm not doing this for charity." 

"But...I didn't know..." 

"So? I didn't either." They looked each other in the eye at that moment, and felt the unspeakable thing they both wanted to say. As unusual as it was, it just seemed too right to stop. Strange things were happening, possessing them, but it was obvious that neither man wanted it to end. 

Their lips pushed together again, a sudden urgency making the kiss rougher, harder, and more forceful than before. When Sanji pressed back against him, Zoro would press harder, binding him against the wall, rolling their tongues together deeper and deeper. 

His heart pounding and his groin growing tighter, when they parted Sanji could only whisper, "Lay back." 

Zoro appeared slightly enchanted by these words, if momentarily stunned. "Okay." He answered after a pause. Sanji's hands collided with his chest, both of them featherweights under the domination of one another, both of them eager to give in where the other pushed, or only push back stronger. He slipped his legs from beneath Zoro and for a moment they were a tangle of limbs on the floor, frantically shifting their position and making contact wherever they could in between that. 

Ravenous to experience everything at once, Sanji crouched between Zoro's legs, tugging impatiently at his pants while the swordsman only watched, still too enchanted and far too stunned to interrupt.

"It already smells like sex in here." Zoro suddenly remarked. 

His expression gleefully mischievous, Sanji smirked up at him. "That's because I came down here to jerk off, right before you walked in." 

This seemed to intrigue him.

Not content to simply intrigue him, Sanji opened Zoro's pants as he added, "I was thinking about you when I came." He realized that the confession should have been as weighty as it had been to his mind at the time, but he was more than a little preoccupied. Zoro wasn't completely hard yet, but when Sanji touched him, he squirmed. A tiny grunt escaped, one he had no doubt meant to allow. Sanji smiled to himself. 

"Does that turn you on, to know that?" 

The waters were being tested, and Sanji knew automatically that this was the dynamic they both craved so much. It was a game of dominance, a series of challenges punctuated by little moments of ecstasy. In between Zoro's legs he wasn't obligated to the same decorum he kept in the company of women. Women, those delicate, spellbinding creatures, he was willing to do simply anything for them, always the gentleman, always holding back. 

But then Zoro's hand came down hard on the back of his head, wiping the evil smile from his mouth and forcing it up against his cock. "Don't use your mouth for talking right now, bastard." 

He gulped and steadied his mind. Yes, this was completely different. This was exhilarating in a way that he never would have imagined. This was the excitement and energy he had been trying to replace with women who were more and more beautiful, only to be left with the same conclusion: sex with the female of the species was getting boring. 

His nose pressed against Zoro's shaft, his lips pursing out to touch it when he breathed. Tentatively, his tongue lashed out, taste testing what was such a familiar mystery in front of him. He felt like a novice all over again, but it wasn't necessarily unpleasant.

The thigh under his hands tensed, and he could hear Zoro breathing harder, struggling not to give any encouraging reaction. His broad hand still rested on the back of Sanji's head, and when he hesitated the fingers curled into his soft blonde hair, pulling at his tender scalp. 

Zoro growled from what seemed like miles away. "Can't you go a little faster? Anyone could come looking for us." 

"Well, I'm sorry, I'm not exactly an old pro at this!" Sanji suddenly barked, his inherent dislike for Zoro's attitude taking over for a moment. When he looked up from his position, affronted and glaring, Zoro only smirked. He loosened his grip in Sanji's hair. 

"Right, then." Again, Sanji lost a moment of comprehension where time and happenstance were concerned. Zoro tucked himself back into place, adjusting and fastening his pants before sitting up to yawn in his usual, perfectly nonchalant way. 

Sanji's brain pounded with confusion. "What are you doing!?" 

The swordsman stood up. "I told you, anyone could come looking for us. This is too dangerous and you were taking too long." 

"You're just a damned tease is all." He hissed in response, his nerves exploding like fireworks. 

"Hey,"  Zoro stopped as he walked toward the door, leaving Sanji in an indignant heap on the floor, "I wouldn't have let you get that far if I was just a tease. It's just going to take a better opportunity, that's all." 

"Wait a minute!" Sanji cried out and scrambled to his feet. He knew he had to say something else before Zoro opened the door and made his exit, "how can you be so calm about this? We just...almost...we were..." 

"And how should I be about it?" Zoro raised one eyebrow and lifted his pinky finger to twist in his ear. 

"I..." Of course he had no idea what to say about that. After several moments of silence, the swordsman grew tired of waiting for an answer, and swung the door open. 

"Right, then. See you later!" Zoro breezed out, waving in passing as he did every other day.

Sanji swayed in shock for a moment, and finally landed in the hammock where Luffy usually slept. He stared up at the ceiling and licked his lips. He tasted Zoro. 

Then he smiled. 


	2. Chapter Two

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter Two

That night, Sanji slept like a baby. Uninterrupted by worries, disturbances, or even dreams, only to wake up the next morning with a smile on his face. He was early for lunch, and no one was pestering him for breakfast. With a sigh of contentment, he let the comfort of the empty cabin and the lightness of his mood fill the first few minutes of the morning. He tucked his hands behind his head and smoked his first cigarette of the day, thoughts meditating inescapably on the beauty of possibility. 

Roronoa Zoro. His lover. Even now, Sanji's cheeks blushed slightly to think about it, and his mind wanted to deny the thought. But his memories were vivid, as they always were, and yesterday's events played fresh in his mind, still doing their job of convincing him that nothing in the world could be farther from wrong. Zoro's voice, still whispering low and rough in his ear, still making his skin break out into goose-bumps. Zoro's lips still burning his skin, from his mouth to his neck, to the tender spot on his throat that had made him cry out. 

Smoke circled in the weakly ventilated air above him as Sanji lifted his fingers to touch that spot again. _He knew exactly how to kiss me. He was aggressive and forceful, and he did it all without hesitating for a moment. _A shuddering breath escaped Sanji's throat and he wondered where the next few days, weeks, months would take them. 

The halcyon morning led to a languid afternoon, which allowed his wandering mind to work at its own pace. Only in the kitchen did he force his thoughts to focus. Other times he was still dreaming and fantasizing, wondering if he could ever make Zoro scream. The thought alone made him giggle evilly, in his own little world. He didn't even need to wonder if _he_ would be the one screaming – Zoro had practically achieved that with only a kiss. Sanji couldn't imagine what sounds would want to escape his mouth when they finally—

The daydreaming possibilities always ended there. He couldn't dare himself to consider it just yet. 

Every cigarette that day felt post-coital, and it wasn't until lunch that he actually saw Zoro again. They tried hard to be themselves, haughty and unkind, but just looking at each other they could tell that the nervousness was getting in the way of any decent cover. At one point it actually took outside interference to urge them into behaving normally.   

"Zoro," Luffy cooed from across the table after downing his fourth bowl of soup, "are you feeling all right?" 

"I'm fine." Zoro shot back gruffly. 

"I was just wondering because you haven't said anything about the soup." 

Sanji raised an eyebrow and eyed Luffy suspiciously. "Oi? What's wrong with it?" He asked challengingly. 

Luffy blinked at him innocently. "You left the mushrooms in....Zoro hates those...last time you left mushrooms in the soup he—" 

It didn't take long to remember. There had been high tensions, dishes broken, a yelling match for no good reason, and finally a flippant agreement that all mushrooms would be left out of all soup to follow. 

"He's right," Zoro's face tightened in realization. He bared his teeth and glared at Sanji from across the table, "is this some sort of test?"

Luffy wasn't even listening, "If you don't want it, can I finish it?" 

Zoro stood up and yelled down at Sanji, who was chastising himself like mad on the inside. He could barely focus on Zoro's words as he barked them. "Didn't I tell you what would happen if you ever did this again? Didn't I?" 

Cigarette gnawed to a slit between his teeth, Sanji growled and leapt to his feet as well. "You wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't said anything!" he pointed down at Luffy, who was already reaching across the table for Zoro's bowl. Sanji silently thanked him—it would have probably been broken otherwise, "learn to expand your tastes once in a while, asshole!" 

"It's very good, Sanji. I think it would taste bland without the mushrooms." Nami's voice was like a birdsong in the middle of a growling wolf pack. Sanji's heart softened a little and he looked down at her, bowing his eyebrows in admiration. 

"Thank you so much, Nami-san!" He chirped in his usual manner, until he was throttled back to reality by Zoro's hand at his collar.

"You're trying to see if I changed because of everything! Well guess what—I haven't!" Zoro declared, obviously not caring if anyone questioned what he meant by "everything." Sanji's expression blanched only slightly, as he noticed that Zoro's eyes were sharper than before, his tone a little more serious. 

In the next few moments Zoro wrenched the bowl of soup from Luffy's greedy hands and pitched it against the wall of the galley. It exploded into a storm of porcelain and broth, vegetables and spice. Everyone fell silent for a moment, and a sting hit Sanji's heart without a very good reason. 

Then, Luffy exploded into laughter. "Well, he did warn you, Sanji!" Ussop and Nami followed quickly, guffawing between breaths as Zoro resumed his seat, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

"Actually I told him I'd slice his hand off if it happened again, but I also mentioned something about throwing the bowl against the wall." He was so pleased with himself. 

Sanji couldn't care less about the broken dish or the petty misunderstanding. It was Zoro's tone that kept coming back to his mind. Until then, they had been arguing for the sake of appearances. They were being themselves. Playing up to what was expected. But what had happened? What had changed his tone so drastically?

_I talked to Nami..._

He knew the others were wondering why he was simply standing there, swaying. 

_Oh my god..._

He knew they were questioning him between their laughter, the levity bleeding slowly into real concern, but he just couldn't snap back to things. The day had been so perfect, such uninterrupted tranquility, afterglow and anticipation blending perfectly...

It was Nami's voice that finally jostled him back into the real world. "Eh, Zoro, Luffy's right! You get to clean up, then, nyeah!" She stuck her tongue out and giggled. After that moment, while Zoro was cursing silently at his empty plate, she glanced up at Sanji and stuck her tongue out mischievously as if to silently communicate some service rendered. There was no way he couldn't wonder if she was protecting his feelings, or if she really knew everything. Women were like that, after all. Keen, perceptive. And no one could deny the weight of Sanji's expression after Zoro had thrown that dish.

"Sanji Sanji Sanji Sanji Sanji—" 

Except Luffy. He tugged hard and insistently on Sanji's sleeve until he got a response. "WHAT?" Sanji bellowed, the everyday annoyances returning to the forefront. He gave Zoro a glance, knowing they would talk about this eventually, and very soon at that. 

"More." Luffy flashed him that inhumanly broad grin of his, and Sanji was powerless to resist.

"Fine enough, there'll be more leftovers thanks to Finicky." He mumbled, grabbing Luffy's bowl and walking to the stove. 

"You all right, Sanji?" Ussop asked hesitantly as Sanji stalked past. 

"Oi." Was all Sanji could manage as a response, wishing he could speed time forward, simply end lunch and be alone with Zoro, broken porcelain and confrontation and probably another shouting match. But at least they would be alone.

The time came quickly enough, after he finally stopped Luffy at five bowls of soup and practically ran the rest out of his kitchen like an angry bull. Nami actually felt bold enough to remark on her way out, "Careful Sanji, don't break anything else," which almost made him smile. At times like this it was only her well-timed jabs that didn't hurt. 

"I'll try not to, Nami-san," he endeavored to sound airy and unconcerned with the problem at hand as he closed the door to the galley and turned around to face the only person left. 

Zoro glared up at him, simply asking for a fight. Sanji didn't know whether to be the mature one or not. He let the options marinate in the moment, and reached back to untie his apron. As he lifted it over his head, he saw Zoro's shoulders sag with a small sigh. 

The silence continued. This was the way it usually was, anytime they were at odds, even before there had been any stolen kisses and heated touches. Zoro refused to apologize, Sanji refused to ask for it, and he always was the one left cleaning up the mess. He fell to his knees on the floor of the galley and calmly went about the task without a word. The swish of a broom and the soft clink of porcelain shards piling together occasionally augmented the quiet time, but he knew they were both screaming thoughts in their own heads. Even if Zoro never would have admitted it. 

And for that reason, he left it alone. He let Zoro boil in his childishness like a lobster in the pot, determined not to break the silence, a palpably uncomfortable one this time.

Finally, the chores were complete. The kitchen was spotless and ready for dinner, which Sanji was not entirely sure he felt like making. His muscles were all tensing with every thought in his head, not at all ready to focus on anything but Zoro's malcontent. The swordsman hadn't moved for the duration of their time, like a student forced into detention, careful not to give them anything to call him on. 

All of Sanji's determination faded. He lit a cigarette and fell gracefully into the chair next to Zoro, which was still warm from Nami. He couldn't even think about her in that moment, frowning and sulking into the chair as he felt Zoro's body heat radiate so close by. 

"Jealous." Sanji grunted. 

Zoro had broken their first silence; Sanji felt obligated to take his turn. 

"What makes you say that?" Zoro shot back immediately, his response a little too defensive to be taken seriously. 

"You're jealous of my feelings for her." 

"Listen!" Zoro turned around suddenly and lodged a pointing finger between Sanji's eyes, "she. Doesn't. Care. You're her nakama—that's what you are, that's what you've always been! You dote on her like a schoolboy and it's disgusting! She couldn't care less about returning that affection and there's no way this constant attention of yours is going to lead to anything better for you! She'll either get tired of it or she'll just keep using you—like she's doing now!" 

It wounded him. The words settled like a lead weight at the bottom of Sanji's heart but he couldn't let that show. He had thought of the same things before. He had tried to convince himself so often. Just as he had tried to convince himself that he was not attracted to Zoro. Both endeavors had failed, and now both feelings simply rose to the surface of his insecurities like oil. Even if the truth was standing in the way, his emotions were the only definite thing that gave him comfort. 

"I know that. It doesn't mean I shouldn't be a gentleman," he let Zoro's finger stay right where it was. The moment was making his heart beat faster, his skin feel hotter. Was he scared? It wasn't easy to tell around Zoro anymore, "and for the record, I'm sorry about the soup." 

Zoro sat back and mumbled, obviously hoping Sanji wouldn't hear him. "I know, and you're right, I wouldn't have even noticed." 

"So you're jealous." Sanji pressed again.

He glanced over to watch the moment of consideration pass through Zoro's eyes. It was too lengthy to be as simple as what he finally said. "I don't think so. I don't....think of you that way." 

"I see," Sanji dragged on his cigarette with a suddenly violent breath, his subconscious turning the words into an excuse to be nettled, "so it is just physical." 

"No, I told you, it's...." Zoro sighed in frustration, and glared. Sanji returned his gaze and their eyes matched in sheer uncertainty, masked by a mutual facade of disregard, "I'm not in love, okay? I'm just not that type of person." 

Zoro crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, straightening his posture, puffing out like a man trying to reaffirm his dominance over the rest of the world in general. Sanji was unimpressed, and refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. 

"I guess I just don't want you to come crawling to me every time some girl breaks your heart from now on. So I'm trying to be a friend." 

"...so you'd rather I come to you before I go and get my heart broken?" 

A breath caught in Zoro's throat, wrenched with outrage. "I didn't mean it like that! Stop twisting my words around!" 

Sanji reached over and patted Zoro on the thigh placatingly. "I know, I know. You're far too sensitive to my insults today." He smiled and rolled the cigarette between his lips, "and I think you don't give my heart enough credit. It's pretty strong, you know." 

"Sheh," Zoro kept his arms crossed, and glanced down at Sanji's hand as if to ask what it was doing anywhere near his body, "at least something about you is." 

"Oh, you can try to get to me with that sort of talk, but it won't work today," Sanji was quick to return to his memories, quick to rewind a little farther than the incident over lunch. He leaned closer to Zoro, feeling him tense in anticipation as he held his cigarette well aside to whisper, "after all, you weren't so unkind yesterday." 

Zoro's tanned skin pinked with a sudden wash of embarrassment, and out of the corner of his eye Sanji saw his face go blank, shocked. 

"Mmm, you think I'd forgotten?" Sanji whispered roughly, leaning forward this time enough to lick Zoro's ear. He caught the lobe between his lips and let it slide out before he added, "I didn't just remember your words, after all. I remember a lot about yesterday."

But Zoro was quick. Before Sanji could react, and in fact his entire body wanted to, the unexpected had occurred. One of Zoro's hands encircled his wrist easily, the other plucked the cigarette from his fingers, and in the flash of a second Sanji found himself staring at the ceiling, pinned furiously to the table, as Zoro's face pinched in righteous anger. "Don't do that!" He shouted, and for less than a moment Sanji was worried that one of the others would hear. Then Zoro crushed his cigarette onto the table, right next to his face and so close to his ear that he heard every nuance of noise.  

Sanji opened his eyes wide, his breath suddenly shallow and pitched. Zoro was not looking at him, and in fact was keeping his eyes anywhere but on the cook. It was a terrifying moment. Sanji wanted to move, knew he probably could have, but knew that the still life was simply too momentous to interrupt with an escape. 

"I'm not playing games with you anymore," Zoro panted, his voice hoarse and unstable, so serious that Sanji wasn't able to read his meaning at all, "I think.....I think yesterday was a mistake." 

He let go of Sanji as if attempting to shove him further into the table. He still wouldn't look at him, as he stalked away toward the door. "I'll be training, and don't you dare interrupt me. I'm through talking about this." 

The door slammed, and Zoro was gone.

His back ached at the way he was bent, but for the longest time, Sanji didn't move. He took breath after breath, trying to find one that was calming, deep. But nothing. Nothing helped his mood, nothing quelled the unmistakable feeling of betrayal and anger. Bile was rising in his throat. He wouldn't cry, though. There was no way he was crying again over that senseless man. 

~*~*~

Anger ruled the rest of his day, and like every other emotion, it made its way into the food. There were a few complaints about the spiciness at dinner, but only from Luffy, who wanted a meal he could wolf down without hesitation, and Zoro, who was hell-bent on complaining regardless. Sanji was mostly silent, uncomfortable, a completely different image of what he had been just a few hours ago. Again, he ached for the meal to be over, but this time he only wanted to be alone. He needed to think on his own again. 

He began to wash the dishes before anyone had even left. Though he could feel the curious eyes on his back, he went about his self-appointed task, determined not to be gotten to. 

"Sanji, is everything all right?" Nami asked gently, speaking for the group as she tended to do. 

Sanji turned around and smiled, immediately putting up his best affectation of cheeriness. "Yes, Nami-san! Just trying to finish up early so I can enjoy my evening sooner!" 

"Oh," she was entirely unconvinced, but polite enough not to press the issue. He thanked her on the inside, "all right, I was going to ask if you needed any help." 

"I'll help," Zoro suddenly grunted, standing up and practically knocking his chair over with the sweeping motion. Everyone, Sanji included, looked at him suspiciously, but he, too, managed to keep his cool, "I still feel a little obligated for acting out this afternoon." He said brightly, stretching his arms over his head as he came closer. Sanji's teeth ground together beneath an otherwise serene expression, and he wanted to do nothing more than lay a righteous palm across Zoro's face. 

_Don't even try to turn around and be nice to me, you bastard, _Sanji thought to himself as they stood side-by-side at the sink, wrist-deep in hot water and soap, never acknowledging each others' presence aside from the occasional muttered instruction.

A silent instinct gripped the other three members of the crew, and somehow they felt the tension descending in the room. "Rematch?" Nami leaned over the table and stuck her tongue out at Luffy challengingly. 

"Hey! I beat you the last time!" Luffy yelled. 

"No you didn't," Ussop interrupted, "I won that game!" 

"Only because I let you." Nami said smugly, crossing her arms and smiling. 

Easy to rile, easy to distract, Luffy and Ussop growled at the injurious implication. They rose to their feet in near-synchronization, and Luffy only took the time to yell, "You're on!" at Nami happily before they went tearing back on deck. 

Nami walked calmly after them, and Sanji heard every footstep she took. "Hey," she suddenly called. She had already been waiting at the door for almost a minute, hesitating to say anything. 

Sanji and Zoro both turned around. She was one foot in and one foot out of the galley, her expression genuinely one of concern. Zoro tilted his head the subtlest bit at her peculiar face, but Sanji knew immediately what she was thinking.

"You guys work things out, okay?" She said quickly, and hurried to leave before they could respond. 

Though he was getting used to that shocked expression on Zoro's face, Sanji still wanted to laugh a little every time he saw it. "I think she means she'll distract them for a while."

"What?" Zoro snarled. 

Sanji left the plate he was rinsing in the sink with a plop. "She knows." He moved away from Zoro and took to the comfortable distance of the table, where he simply leaned, not quite ready to sit. 

"She knows what?"

A deep sigh, and he knew there was no polite way to force the topic on Zoro again. "Listen, you can end this right here and now if you want to, but the fact is, things have been happening between us. Nami seems to have the presence of mind to figure it out, and she also knows now that we're in trouble." In the pause, he lit up a cigarette as if on cue.   

Zoro gave a tiny scoff. "Not me. I don't have anything to be troubled by." 

"Listen, I don't have time to listen to you be a petulant brat anymore." Sanji's voice was suddenly heavy, commanding. Zoro turned around on instinct. That was the voice he only heard from Sanji in the heat of battle, and it obviously threw his mind into a different state. Sanji was pleased. As long as it took to keep his attention. "I want you to stand there and tell me that you feel absolutely nothing for me. If you need to think for even a moment please think a little harder and give me a very clear, very pointed answer. Tell me what you're feeling for me. If it's lust then we're right back where we started yesterday. If it's shame then I'll apologize for violating whatever trust we had, but I'll expect an apology in return," _after all, _Sanji thought in a flash between breaths, _I didn't press *your* face into my crotch, _"and if it's something you can't quite put your finger on, then....well....that would explain everything just fine. But we DO need to talk about it. You don't have the option of leaving this kitchen, not where my respect for you is concerned." 

He finished his sentence and sucked in the calming, familiar taste of tobacco and nicotine. His heart was racing so heavily after speaking those words. He felt winded. He felt a little dizzy. But damn did it feel good. Vindication had been his in that assertive moment, vindication for the humiliation of being thrown against the table and made to feel like a piece of trash in Zoro's eyes.

When he didn't hear an answer immediately, and when Zoro's face softened in reluctant surrender, Sanji felt some relief. He hadn't wanted to fight Zoro for the clarification he required, but if it had come down to that, he would have.

"You've trapped me." Zoro finally said, eyes downcast, managing to strike a calm, thinking pose against the sink. They faced each other, but neither would advance. Not until everything was clear. And at the moment they weren't even looking at each other. 

"That's right," Sanji muttered, "I'll lose every shred of admiration I ever had for you if you walk out on me now." 

"No," the harder, rougher voice interrupted, "I mean that's how I feel. It's like...you've trapped me." 

There was no smooth reply or derisive comeback Sanji could think of for that. Suddenly he knew that the world had just shifted again, that now they were back in the same little place that they had inhabited yesterday. This was Zoro attempting to be mature about things. This may have very well been the closest approximation of Zoro bearing his soul. 

"......oh?" Sanji prompted him, careful not to sound too challenging or too hopeful. 

"Yeah," he shifted a little, moving his weight onto one foot, tucking the other against the cabinet, behind his knee. His voice had that loose, rambling tone, and Sanji knew it hadn't just been a fanciful possibility that Zoro was explaining himself to his fullest, "I've had this feeling before, though. Ever since I was a kid. Things trap me and I want to run away from them—my instinct is to always run away from them. I just want something definite, stable. Kuina, our promise, even Luffy and his dream....there was always the hesitation, the moment of wondering whether I was following the right path. But then something always happened, and it just made me....I don't know, exactly." He paused, and somehow knew he wouldn't be interrupted. When he finally finished his thought, it was with a firm, definite tone, "I don't like to lose things once I have them, Sanji."

He glared at Sanji and held it. Whether Zoro knew how imposing he looked at that moment, Sanji wasn't completely sure, but he was almost absolutely certain that he did. And no matter what he did, Sanji couldn't bring himself to look away, captured as he was. 

"Yesterday I wasn't expecting to let things go the way they did. But I forced them. I wanted them. Of course you did, too, that's never been a question," he paused for effect,  "I just want to end things before they go too far. Before you move on. Because I don't think I'd be willing to let you go." 

"I see." Sanji whispered, eager to stop his hand from quivering the way that it was. Why was he trembling? Were Zoro's words affecting his emotions so deeply? "Well," he added weakly, "who....who says I'll _want _to move on?" 

Zoro scoffed, louder and more heartfelt, letting Sanji know he had taken aim at his heart. "Are you kidding?" He stared him down, his eyes almost sad, though a smirk danced teasingly on his lips, "you need a woman." 

"I--!" Sanji began, wanting badly to protest, but knowing there was no right way. Everything Zoro was saying seemed so true, so hurtful yet real. He clenched his fists angrily, rooted in place and still trembling. His face clenched in desperation, Sanji felt tears coming on instead of words. _You're going to make me cry, aren't you? You bastard..._

_A woman. Of course that's what you'd say. But right now, I want YOU...._

"Look at it this way," Zoro was on his way to the door, "at least things didn't get far enough for either of us to become very serious about it. At least we were only experimenting." 

He raised his hand, waving goodbye, but Sanji wasn't watching. He was already launching himself in long, smooth steps. Zoro's hand reached for the doorknob, but never made it. 

Sanji tackled him from behind, throwing his arms around Zoro's chest and flattening them both into the door. "Don't say that!" he cried. His eyes were pinched shut and trying not to let the tears escape, but it wasn't helping much, "I can't do it! I won't let you!" 

Shocked by his sudden rush of emotion, Zoro stayed in that spot, Sanji's arms the only thing separating him from the door. He listened to the frantic, intense words being yelled into his ear, and guilt washed all over him. "Sanji!" He responded, hoping that his anger would end the moment that was weakening his resolve, "let go of me! This isn't going to happen. Not the way you want." 

"And SO?" He flipped Zoro around to face him with a mighty swing, and they banged against the door again. His hands reached into the fabric of Zoro's shirt, grabbing twin handfuls to pull at as he gritted his teeth and growled, "it's the way YOU want it, too! It is, I can see it! We can't live here, and be around each other, and do this!" His voice tapered off, and he let his shallow breath take the volume away as he finished up, "I won't promise anything. But....but I know it will be worse if we do things the way you're suggesting." 

Zoro lifted his hands and enveloped Sanji's fists, his face drawn with that same resolute blankness that everyone onboard knew all too well. "Let go of me." 

Sanji's eyebrows slanted in, and he only tightened his grip. "I won't." 

The way those green eyes fixed on him, as Zoro memorized his words and filed them away, was unquestionably disquieting. But Sanji was determined to show that his ability to get what he wanted was just as strong as Zoro's ability to walk away from it. 

The swordsman slumped, and glanced up at the ceiling for a moment, a sigh chasing his movement that suggested nothing Sanji could readily identify. When he looked back down at Sanji, his eyes were lazy, his expression, as always, unreadable.  

"Then kiss me." 

Those words were so stunning, so perfect, and still he couldn't quite grasp their meaning until he felt Zoro's hand raise to lock behind his neck. As he was pulled slightly forward, Sanji stammered, "If I do, you won't go?" 

As close as he was now, he could see the subtle movement as Zoro's face tightened with emotion. "Shut up." 

Sanji closed his eyes and leaned back into Zoro's hand, letting it guide him the rest of the short way until their lips met, strangely softer than yesterday's memories. His fingers lost their grip on the fabric little by little, until he knew they needed a new place to be. As the kiss went on, neither man giving way, allowing it or wanting it to end, he brushed his hand over Zoro's cheek. Past the soft hair of his sideburns, back until his fingers made tiny music as they passed over his earrings.

The noise, gentle as it was, made them both gasp a bit, breathing in from one another's mouths and only deepening the kiss after the quickly shared moment. Sanji let his hand explore the feeling at the back of Zoro's neck, the hard movement of his muscle blended with the baby-softness of his hair. He gripped harder, and felt Zoro reciprocate the action. They breathed, came back together again, and repeated the action. With each kiss they lost a little clarity, but the very obvious had never been in doubt.

It didn't seem to have been as long as it was, probably. Sanji knew exactly how those time-warping kisses felt, but it had been so long since someone had actually captivated him enough to manage one. He shrank away from Zoro and averted his eyes shyly, not sure whether he wanted to speak, even as the words slipped from his lips, "I liked that." 

"Yeah." 

He would have considered the response cold, meaningless, so typically Zoro. But there was still that warm hand on the back of his neck, which even as he looked away stayed right where it was. Zoro's thumb stroked absently up and down, brushing the parts at the base of his head where electricity was made. Something told him there wasn't much more he could ask for than that, and again, he smiled.

"Hey," he let out a little half-hearted scoff, and leaned forward slowly until their foreheads touched together, "thanks." 

There was something about the lack of hesitation in Zoro's voice when he replied, "Anytime." 

Sanji's smile deepened, and he realized for the first time that Zoro's other arm was clutching him around the waist, holding him loosely but definitely. As he allowed himself to melt against the swordsman, their cheeks brushing together as they lost themselves in their own little contemplations, thoughts of the real world tried to interfere.

_Nah, I'm not going to think about that, _Sanji reprimanded himself, _not right now. I'm not going to think about what he said, what he did, what he tried to do. I'm just going to enjoy him. _He breathed in deeply, familiarizing himself with Zoro's perpetually musky, manly, strangely alluring scent.

"Nami won't be able to keep the others distracted much longer." Zoro mumbled. Sanji could feel the vibrations of his words, and tried not to sigh at how wonderful that felt. 

"True," Sanji paused, "or maybe she's found a way to tell them." 

Zoro wanted to laugh, Sanji could tell, but held it back. Instead he held him a little tighter, and there were certainly no complaints about that. "I don't think we'd be able to enjoy another quiet moment like this if that ever happened." 

Heart fluttering a little bit at those words in Zoro's voice, Sanji whimpered a little bit. "I don't want to move." 

"Stop whining, you really do sound like a woman," he sneered playfully. Sanji pulled back and met his eyes challengingly. 

"Sorry to taint the testosterone," he smirked right back, and then rolled his eyes and added, "I need a cigarette."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," Zoro replied, patently self-satisfied, "but before that..." 

Sanji lifted one eyebrow, and was caught off-guard just as before when Zoro's lips closed around his, forcing them open. Within a few seconds he stole Sanji's breath, and made up for every moment of sweetness that had come before with one dirty, hard, rapacious kiss. 

"Just the way I know you like it," he murmured as he pulled away, lifting his thumb to wipe Sanji's bottom lip, "_now _you need a cigarette." 

"Yes, now I do." Sanji wanted to snap, but had lost all the capacity to do so. He stepped back from Zoro and the door, his glare steady though not quite angry. Necessity begged him to reach down for a moment and adjust himself between his legs, "fucking tease." 

Zoro laughed victoriously, and was about to prolong the torture when a swift, deafening knock came on the door. As Sanji's head spun with the sudden interruption, Zoro nearly keeled over in shock. 

"Hey! This is so cool, you guys have to come see!" Luffy's voice somehow sounded like it was screaming in close proximity, even from outside. 

Zoro glanced at Sanji, and shrugged with a little smile. As he lit a cigarette, Sanji couldn't help but chuckle in return. After all, Luffy's ill-timed interruption had ended whatever pain Zoro was intent on leaving him in. As Zoro held the door open and Sanji breezed past, he found the moment perfect to mutter, "You owe me." 

"Then we're even." Zoro replied smoothly, an evil grin actually showing up on his face before they were whisked to the upper deck by Luffy and the others. 

"Look!" Nami pointed East, her eyes twinkling with wonder, "it started a couple of minutes ago." 

The men glanced over, expecting anything but the wondrous sight they found. 

Sanji gasped audibly, while Zoro could only stare. "What...what in the world...?"

"It's a meteor shower!" Nami explained airily, absolutely spellbound, "the conditions are perfect, we're very fortunate to see this," she sighed and added, "every one of those is a falling star."

"No!" Ussop exclaimed, leaning close to Nami, eyes wide, "where will they fall!?" 

Sanji slapped him on the back of the head. "It's a figure of speech, idiot!" 

There was laughter only for a moment. Levity simply couldn't sustain itself. Not then. The sky was so alive, so gorgeous, like nothing Sanji or the others had ever witnessed before. 

"A thousand falling stars." He suddenly heard Zoro's voice, soft enough for the others not to notice as they continued to ask Nami hushed questions. 

"Make a wish." Sanji replied, not even glancing back. He didn't need to. He knew Zoro was there. 

And his wish, unexpected even as his mind decisively thought it, was to have it remain that way.


	3. Chapter Three

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter 3

The attack happened just before dawn broke over the East Blue horizon. It was an unprecedented moment of panic for everyone below deck, as Ussop burst in from his watch, screaming the dreadful word "Marines" at the top of his lungs. For the first time they were roused from sleep and thrust into a critical situation with barely a moment to gather their bearings. Sanji was light-headed from the chaos; his limbs felt stiff. He was silently grateful that it was only the Marines, and not another megalomaniac pirate with an entire fleet under his command. 

Apparently there had been no dispatch, but simply a patrol ship passing in the night. By the time the crew reached the deck of the _Going Merry, _Marines were already boarding them.

Luffy ordered Ussop to the cannon, and adopted his most determined stance. Their attackers would have been well to know that Luffy could abide my many things, but being roused from sleep was _not _one of them. With a silent nod of communication to Sanji, they set to work on the uninvited guests. Amidst the expected  carnage and cacophony of battle, Sanji felt the misty morning air exhilarate him, the soon-victorious cries of the crew music to his ears. It was a small Marine vessel, but it seemed as if a full corps was pouring out, eager as they usually were for justice and Luffy's head. 

Two shots from their cannon had already damaged the Marine ship irreparably, and as it began to sink Sanji finally started to realize how exhausting the fight was becoming. His feet felt like lead weights on his legs after a few more minutes, and it still seemed that the enemy was outnumbering them twenty to one.

When he paused for a moment, just to catch his breath, it turned out that the exhaustion had numbed his sense of danger, as well. He had only let his guard down for a flash, and in that half-second he felt a rush of something warm spray against his back, and heard the disturbing, jagged slashing sound of steel through human flesh. He turned around swiftly and Zoro rushed past him, leaving a dead body in his wake. "Be more careful," he growled ferociously at Sanji as he passed, "you almost got killed."

Trying with all his might not to be fazed by that particular brush with death, he dutifully continued the fight, pushing his body harder until he found his stamina being tested. It almost frightened him; his stamina had never been an issue. 

_You're barely awake, you don't have an ounce of food in you, and there was absolutely no time to prepare. _He kept assuring himself, and started counting off the men in uniform as he fought them, defeated them, and moved on to the next. 

The morning's first light was casting long, black shadows across the deck when he lost count.

An hour. It had only been an hour. The _Going Merry _had managed to steer clear of the Marine boat as it sank, and eventually dispatched with every last would-be attacker. Everything had seemed like a blur – the only thing Sanji remembered by the time he slumped exhausted against the railing was the sound of Zoro's sword behind him, his words as he passed.

He hadn't even had the time to look at his eyes then, but somehow he wished he had. He had wanted to match the tone with an expression – he wanted to lay to rest his silly assumption that Zoro had been worried about him in a way that transcended the norm.

With a growling moan of discomfort, he forced himself toward the galley, raising his voice to yell to the others, "We all need food. I'll get to work." 

There were no objections to a meal, but no one was telling him to stop, no, wait, get cleaned up first, either. He supposed that everyone was concerned with only themselves at that moment, and he couldn't blame them. The blood had dried in his hair and all over the back of his shirt, and the feeling was making him nauseous. Once safely inside the galley he discarded the shirt, tossed it onto the nearest chair, and lit up a very well-deserved cigarette. 

A moment of contemplation was in order before he decided on that morning's breakfast. Everyone would be starving, that was no question. And no one would want to wait very long. He ran over a few options in his mind, but every time he tried to focus his attention, his thoughts kept reversing, scrambling, doubling back to his one memory from the battle. 

Zoro's words. _"You almost got killed." _Angry. Purposeful. Said and gone in the flash of a second.

In the short time the crew had been together, saving each others' lives had become a common occurrence. So he could hardly meditate on the thrill that Zoro had killed for his sake. With only five people, you had to watch each others' backs, or....

Sanji didn't want to even consider the alternative. It simply wasn't an issue to the crew of the _Going Merry. _

He walked past the table and puffed thoughtfully. With a tiny smirk he reached down and fingered the burnt spot on the wood where Zoro had crushed his cigarette only a week ago. What had happened that day, the words that had been exchanged, the tension that had almost come to blows...it still hurt him deep down. It had all led to something worthwhile, of course, but Sanji was still nervous about things the way they were. Time had stood still since that day, since their long, last kiss against the galley door. 

Suddenly, as he exhaled a cloud of smoke in a hurried blow, it dawned on him. 

_That voice, today, it was the same as when..._

He remembered so clearly, still. Being pinned to the table, having no clue what to do, only hearing Zoro as he growled at him...

_"I'm not playing games with you anymore." _

The rush of clarity came over him, the possibility of understanding was in his grasp. But it was extremely short lived. 

The door closed with a tiny squeal of its hinges, and Sanji turned around with a start. 

"Zoro." He said, almost smiling, but a little too tired to pull it off. 

Zoro, blood-stained and sweat-soaked, dark fabric tilted slightly askew over his eyebrows. His gaze traveled up Sanji's body appraisingly, his mouth twitching very subtly into a pleasant smirk. "Well." He said simply, suggestion simply dripping from his tone, his eyes fixed on Sanji's bare chest. 

"I had to lose the shirt. It's practically ruined from all the blood," he paused, "thank you, by the way." It was difficult to keep his composure when the look on Zoro's face read of something he'd never seen in the swordsman before. He was surprised to feel uncomfortable because of it, at the same time that a fire lit immediately inside. 

"Eh," Zoro brushed off the graciousness easily, "had to." He strode to the table and took one chair in his hands, saying no more as he turned back to the door and carried it with him. 

Sanji could only watch for a few seconds before his brow knitted in confusion and he scoffed, "What are you doing?" 

With a glance over his shoulder, Zoro lifted one eyebrow impishly. Sanji suddenly noticed he was sucking, rather nervously, on a spent cigarette. As he tossed it carelessly into the sink, Zoro lodged the chair securely beneath the doorknob and against the frame, producing his closest approximation of a makeshift lock. 

He clapped his hands together in accomplishment and was already on his way back to the table. "I don't have the patience to take any more precautions than that," he nodded over his shoulder, indicating the small, round window in the door, "let 'em look if they want to that badly." 

Sanji found it all of the sudden very difficult to swallow. 

"Over here." He beckoned Sanji with one finger, his tone testy and his stance commanding. 

There was absolutely no reason to resist. Sanji felt the exhaustion fade away immediately, replaced with the simple, focused energy of lust. He made his way over quickly, and within a few feet Zoro grabbed him. His arms circled Sanji easily, forcing their bodies together. He kissed him like a whore. Sanji found himself absolutely powerless, limp like a rag-doll, melting and boneless against Zoro's powerful body. 

With Zoro's tongue still plundering his mouth with urgency that made him blush, Sanji reacted to everything with the force of a wild animal. He suddenly felt Zoro's hands grasp him from behind, squeezing his buttocks tightly with a strength he had never imagined. With hardly a choice, he drew up onto the tips of his toes, gasping for air with every moment that Zoro allowed him, spinning into recklessness as those hands kept kneading his softest flesh hungrily, so fiercely that he feared they would tear into the fabric.

 "Why--?" Sanji could barely gasp before Zoro lifted him onto the table, dropped him hard, and leaned over him with another crushing kiss. 

Zoro smiled around Sanji's mouth, and kept that impish twinkle in his eyes. "Because I'm so hard right now, I can hardly breathe." 

Though his ears burned in the wake of Zoro's voice, Sanji found the composure to reply, "—the battle?" 

Zoro nodded impatiently, and pushed Sanji back. Shocked by the short fall, Sanji gasped for breath, his blonde hair fanning around his head as he found himself in a familiar position, under much more welcome circumstances. Zoro's rough, forceful lips worked down his neck, remembering the spots that had caused such a stir last week. Sanji showed his appreciation with a little whimper as he scratched his fingers over the back of Zoro's head. 

_I don't know what I'm going to do if he goes any farther..._Sanji bit him bottom lip and worried, _already, I want to scream...I want to let all this out, this tension he's just building and building inside of me..._

He was caught completely off-guard as Zoro's mouth clamped over one of his nipples, his teeth biting hard on contact. His back arched and his hands grabbed at the cloth knotted at the base of Zoro's neck. As he opened his mouth to let out a long-awaited sob of pleasure, he felt a palm flatten over his lips before he could register any significant volume. Sanji's eyes flew open.

"Jeez, you're _annoying,_" Zoro shook his head and straightened up a bit, though he still refused to remove his hand from Sanji's mouth. Sanji knitted his brow in indignation. _As if I'm going to scream now, you asshole..._ With a few quick motions behind his neck, he unfurled the tiny scarf from his head. He dangled the strip of fabric over Sanji's face, and lifted one eyebrow. "Will you needing this?" He asked firmly. 

Though he would have been ashamed to admit such a thing verbally, Sanji somehow found the modesty to nod beneath Zoro's hand. 

The thing smelled like Zoro, and forced the scent directly into Sanji's mind as it slid between his teeth and around his head. He bit hard on it, testing its durability as Zoro knotted it tightly, painfully. Sanji exclaimed, but was muffled by the gag. He shot another hateful glare at the man standing over him. 

"Sorry," Zoro shrugged, smiled, and leaned over Sanji's face. He kissed his cheek and the curl of one eyebrow, and whispered silkily, "but I get off on power."

Sanji's stomach tied an immediate knot, but he was secretly grateful for that knowledge. This was definitely what he had always been missing. He knew that, despite his constant one-upmanship, rivalry, and general schoolyard teasing with Roronoa Zoro, this was something he could do. He wanted to give him that power, and he wanted to be used to that end. His heart had never ached with anxiety this way, not with the timid maidens and soft-skinned socialites who expected him to do all the work, every time. Zoro was tearing his pants off, with hands that could just as easily have killed him as aroused him, and the rush of helplessness was like nothing he had ever felt before. 

In what seemed like one motion, he found himself stripped, his pants forced down around his ankles as Zoro's tongue grazed the sensitive, slightly ticklish vicinity of his navel. 

"Hey," Zoro finally let up, allowing Sanji a moment to breathe, "we don't have time for everything I want to do to you, not right now," he lifted a hand and ran it over Sanji's face, wiping off the thin patina of wetness left by his watering eyes, "but trust me, I will get the chance."

His other hand squeezed Sanji's erection, adding an exclamation point to his vow. Sanji's fingernails nearly drew splinters from the table when they dug in at this. He was aching for release but yearning, begging on the inside, for the experience to never end. With every movement of Zoro's hand his tongue collided with the gag in his mouth, strangled little cries escaping, only shadows of what they might have been. 

Their eyes met for a moment; only a moment, but long enough. Sanji knew the surrender, the complete submission, was sparkling with his tears of exertion. There was no way Zoro could have missed it, there was no way it couldn't have pushed him forward. What he felt in response was a firm hand on his hip, another on his shoulder, rolling him roughly onto his stomach and meeting with very little resistance.  

Horror was lurking somewhere in Sanji's mind, the inescapable fear of the unknown. But the excitement seemed to be overpowering everything. He shuddered and moaned inside his throat as Zoro's hands ran over the shape of his body from behind. Those touches were amazing, so simple and so different. Sanji wanted Zoro's hands on him for hours at a time, massaging away the soreness in his muscles and delighting him with every little brush of his long, powerful fingers. "Damn it," he heard Zoro mutter, as if reading his mind, "no time." 

His earrings were miniature wind chimes in Sanji's ear as he leaned over him again, breathing slowly and purposefully against his cheek. Sanji's eyes fluttered to a close and he heard Zoro whisper, "Tell me you want me to." 

Sanji barely hesitated, and was able to speak softly beneath the gag's resistance. "Fuck me," he managed in a tiny voice, "please." He could already feel the solid heat of Zoro's erection through his pants as he curved against him from behind. 

"Thank you," Zoro breathed in a grateful, relieved little way, and kissed Sanji's cheek playfully before he drew back. Sanji blinked and tried desperately to slow his breathing. But already he felt Zoro's fingers pressing inside of him, bothering with nothing but the appointed task. Wet fingers, cool and steady, obviously eager but hardly as rough as Sanji had expected. His breath only hastened, deepened, every gasp for air a change in the pitch of an eternal moan. 

A fragrance that was all-too familiar was suddenly quite pungent in the air, and Sanji drew his mind out of its fear, its excitement. He had to identify it. Zoro's fingers were so slick, delving ever-more into his body, primed with—

"Olive oil, if you're wondering. Closest thing I could find." Zoro assuaged his curiosity with a quick explanation, jabbing suddenly deeper. Sanji yelped and squeezed his eyes shut. 

_Damn, that....that felt good. _He allowed himself to accept it, humiliated as he truly was. His cheeks were blushing, and his eyes were not simply watering any more. A tear of fatigue and humility rolled down to the tip of his nose as he struggled for breath. _This isn't how I wanted it to be...not at first._

He wanted Zoro's voice again; he wanted just a little bit of comfort and reassurance. But all he heard were the gentle sounds of their own bodies, the overwhelming background noise of his hoarse, trembling reactions. Zoro was making no efforts to be gentle as he plunged all four fingers of one hand into Sanji's body. Below him, Sanji felt himself experiencing what he had always thought to be only half-true. _Pain and pleasure...completely indistinguishable, one from the other. But I'm feeling both. I just can't focus on one...I can't..._

The pressure came to an abrupt halt, and Sanji gulped down a deep breath instinctively. For a moment he felt empty, abandoned....actually longing for more. He clenched his face into a tight grimace and let the desire spring to the forefront of his mind, forcing himself into the same carnal state as his partner. 

_Fuck me..._ he could only think, wishing again that he had the power to scream it, beg for it as loud as his voice would allow. He tried to forget the image of himself, bent over in such a position, practically violated, absolutely obedient. He tried to forget his overwhelming desire to see Zoro, to hear him, and not just to feel him as the experience went on. _Just do it. Bastard._

The doubts, the sudden fears and insecurities, he would leave for another time. In the flash of a few seconds' time he managed to rile himself, knowing and convinced that he wanted nothing more than Zoro inside of him, ravaging him, fucking him. No romance, no pleasantries. Not right now. The wish went against everything he had thought before, but somehow it seemed right. This was the difference. This might have been what he was searching for. _Everything I never knew I always wanted._

With a  short, uncharacteristically fetching moan, Zoro drove into him. For a moment, neither made a sound, and hardly a motion. Sanji felt himself go dizzy, mindless, needing air but not having the presence of mind to draw even a breath. It hurt like hell, and for that moment he absolutely hated Zoro for taking him in such a fashion. 

The first reaction he made was a tiny gasp as he fell back into reality, wondering if Zoro was going to keep fucking him with no regard for his comfort whatsoever. He let the thought sink in, as the massive thing inside of him started to move intently, precisely, with a rhythm that wasted no time. 

He felt Zoro straighten up behind him, and listened to his deep, faint reactions with each powerful thrust. All of Sanji's concentration after that was centered on enjoying it, trying not to wish that Zoro's hand would leave the small of his back and relieve some of the unbearable tension from his trembling, dripping cock. His breath was the only sound he made; his body rocking in hard, violent pulses against the table as a backdrop. The wood struggling against its own joints, producing muted whines under the strain. And behind that, all Sanji could hear was still the sound of Zoro's breath, mouth open so that every thrust drew a little awestruck grunt.

Within a few moments, the swordsman was moving slower, and Sanji heard him close his mouth and begin to breath through his nose, labored and determined, taking long, full strokes in and out of his body. When Sanji was certain that it would be over within the span of a minute, certain that he would be left unfulfilled and disenchanted, his face suddenly contorted into a wince of shock, and a warm shock electrified his body from the base of his spine, from the spot where Zoro's cock was now pounding him in hard, thorough thrusts.

A choked scream came out, as loud as he could manage, and he dug his teeth firmly into the fabric, growling in his throat. He heard Zoro chuckle, and gasp between threshold breaths. "You didn't honestly think I would've forgotten you, did you? You've been acting like a corpse down there."

With another perfect poke at his most sensitive bit, Zoro brought his palm down hard and ruthless on Sanji's ass. The blonde head beneath him jerked up roughly, and Sanji yelped like a whipped dog. He could imagine the look on Zoro's face, the severely dominant and mischievous grin he showed only at his most sadistic. "That's better." He mumbled through his teeth. 

Sanji's knees were hardly a support anymore—his weight concentrated beneath his ribcage, where he continued to be thrust back and forth into the table. Zoro's hands were exploring his softer flesh, his thighs and ass but never beneath that. His touches were so harsh, so animalistic, that Sanji knew the other man's orgasm was approaching. Despite every misgiving he had conjured, despite every doubt about his new lover's consideration, Sanji knew he didn't want it to be over so quickly. 

He wanted to throw his legs around Zoro's waist and get fucked on top of the counter. He wanted to straighten his back, with Zoro beneath him, and ride him to one thrashing climax after another. The thoughts kept flashing behind his eyes, with every rush of pleasure and every breathtaking thrust. He wanted to get down on his knees and let Zoro come all over his face. 

_What the hell is happening to me?! _He thought, clenching his teeth tightly, grinding them against the gag, his throat swelling and hurting from the noises he needed so desperately to make. _I'm not like that! I have more self-respect than that, I can't let lust simply...take over...._

Zoro's fingers were suddenly little feathers against his cock. Above and behind him, Zoro gasped, "Sanji." 

His body reacted as it only could. The immediate touch, the mounted tension, the thoughts in his head, all combining to send him over the edge. As Sanji felt himself spill all over Zoro's finally proffered hand, he gulped back his scream and simply rode the wave of tension as it released, pulsed, and released again. Every muscle in his body screamed from struggle, fatigue, and inconceivable delight. 

Zoro seemed more than happy with the result of his actions, and released immediately into Sanji, moaning his name again. The feeling was heavy and different, something Sanji could never have prepared for. His legs continued to tremble as Zoro let out a satisfied sigh and fell over his back. 

His chest was slick with sweat and painfully hot, but Sanji wouldn't have asked him to move. Not when Zoro rubbed his face against the back of his neck, electrifying the ends of his wispy hair with little gusts of breath. And certainly not a few minutes later, when, withdrawn and recovering, Zoro whispered lazily, "Next time, we'll do this your way."

Heart still throbbing, muscles only beginning to regain their composure, Sanji stared ahead at the wall, between the spots where Zoro and Nami usually sat during meals. Finally he sucked in a breath as deeply as he could, and exhaled heavily. It was a comfortable breath, a fulfilled breath. Silently he thanked Zoro, and made a mental list of details to tease him about next time they were in less intimate contact. 

After a few tugs at the back of Sanji's head, Zoro freed the gag from his mouth, and returned it to the usual spot on his left arm. "Thanks for taking good care of this." He said softly, and Sanji knew it was probably the sweetest nothing that would be whispered into his ear for now. 

"Yeah," Sanji replied, still listless beneath him, "thanks for...thanks for...that_._"

_Very suave, dimwit._

Zoro could have been blushing, but Sanji's only indication was the slight pause, the barely noticeable change of pitch in his voice when he returned the sentiment, "Yeah, that was....that was....yes." 

The moment was comfortable in spirit even if their conversation refused to be anything but awkward. They both sighed in unison, trying to clear their thoughts. "Oi," Sanji suddenly breathed, unassuming and gentle.

"Eh?" Zoro tilted his head a little against the shoulder beneath him. 

"Get off of me." 

Zoro growled slightly, and couldn't help but admit that it was probably time to get dressed again, anyway. They didn't have any time to waste on enjoying the afterglow, not when they were both likely to pass out from exhaustion at any moment. With Zoro, that was hardly a cause for concern. But Sanji would have rather his pants be up to avoid suspicion. 

Turning back and forth, readjusting his back and stretching his strained muscles, Sanji sat up on the table and faced Zoro, pants still around his ankles, hair in a state of chaos. He stretched his arms over his head and watched as Zoro adjusted his haramaki, looked over at him, and just stared.

"What?" Sanji grunted, leaning back against the table and meeting Zoro's eyes challengingly. 

Zoro lifted an eyebrow and looked at him with obvious disbelief. "Get. The hell. Dressed," He snatched the blood-stained button-up from a near-by chair and pitched it at Sanji's naked body, "_now _who's the 'fucking tease'?"

"Well, obviously not you any more, you pretty much made that clear. And I won't soon forget it." He stood up and purposefully slipped his shirt on first. He turned his back to Zoro as he began to button it up, so the round curves of his ass peeked out from beneath the shirt-tails, practically winking at the swordsman. 

_Revenge, lover. _

He heard a frustrated grunt, and glanced back over his shoulder coquettishly. "What is it? Something troubling you?" 

Obviously Zoro was not planning on dignifying his show with a response. Sanji turned around and grinned, one hand on his hip, the other propped on the table. His shirt split up the middle to show off everything to Zoro, everything he had so rudely neglected to pay attention to that morning. 

Zoro's eyes kept darting downward, past the wrinkled blue linen and past the thin trail of blonde hair before they jerked back up as if afraid of getting caught. His cheeks _were _blushing. Sanji felt so proud of himself, he could barely hold back his laughter. 

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find the time to do some exploring at a later date..." he half-shrugged, and bent down, gathering his pants and bringing them back up with him, "Then, we can do it _my way. _Like you promised." 

Though the order of his actions was dictated by necessity, and not desire, Sanji buttoned his pants first, and then fished a cigarette from his pocket. Zoro was still watching him, and Sanji absolutely relished it. Even with all the aches and discomforts he was feeling, and the exhaustion to top it off, he never had trouble mustering up the poise to be flirtatious.

Smoke filled his mouth smoothly, and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying it, relaxing with it. "Of course," he snapped his gaze to the unmoving Zoro sharply, "to do that, we'll need quite a bit of time. Alone." 

"Yeah, speaking of which," Zoro reached back and scratched his shoulder, pretending not to be fazed by the lusty sparkle in Sanji's eyes, "where is everyone?"

"Yeah, I was quite expecting to be caught this time," Sanji puffed thoughtfully, grateful that had not been the case, "maybe Nami figured something was happening and—"

"They're all asleep." Zoro smirked, looking out through the galley window at the deck below. 

"What?" Sanji barked incredulously. 

"Take a look." He moved aside as Sanji scurried over on still-unstable legs. He was surprised to find that Zoro was right. 

"It's sort of cute." 

It certainly was. Nami, Luffy, and Ussop formed their own little triangle of slumber, everyone's head on someone else's leg or stomach, everyone's arms flopped lazily over someone else's body. For a half of a second, Sanji wished that he and Zoro were there with the others, sharing in that unconscious moment of comfort and family. But then, Zoro's hands snaked around his waist, and he felt his lover's chiseled jaw fall softly against his shoulder. 

"Well, I suppose I should turn in, myself, then," He said brightly, the tone so quietly cheerful that Sanji's eyes widened in surprise, "we've had a difficult morning." 

Sanji scoffed, trying to be indignant even though Zoro was playing with the flaps of his shirt, tickling the exposed flesh of his belly as he lifted them. "You'd have slept all day even if we hadn't gotten attacked." 

"I'm just living up to my reputation." Zoro snickered, leaning in to nibble at Sanji's ear playfully. 

Though flushed by the gesture, Sanji found the strength to stay calm. "Baka." He breathed, even though he was smiling. 

"Hey," Zoro's mouth moved closer to his lips, and his arms clenched the embrace around his waist, "you know what we just did...?" 

His cheeks pinking, Sanji's smile grew slipshod, lazily stretched across his face, "Yeah..."

Zoro laughed, blowing a happy breath against Sanji's mouth. "Thank you." He whispered. 

"Until next time." Sanji replied, but they were already ending the conversation with a kiss. 


	4. Chapter Four

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter Four

Nami pulled her sunglasses lower on her nose, and Sanji watched as her beautiful brown eyes blinked twice. "What do you mean, _how did I know?" _

Sanji shrugged, as overdramatic as ever in Nami's presence. "I'm just curious to know if all that stuff about women's intuition is true." 

She giggled, and Sanji resisted the urge to droop his shoulders and give in to the goo-goo eyes as usual. The wind came by in a sudden gust, as a wave broke against the Going Merry's hull. A spray of water flew up at them as their hair flew about wildly. Nami smirked and faced the sun again. 

"You're talking as if it's a one way street, this little relationship of yours." 

"Now, I'd hardly call it that. A relationship, that is." 

Nami reached over and her petite hand gave him a playful, surprisingly strong shove. He stumbled a bit and smiled, simply content to have enjoyed her touch. "Oh, come on!" she looked a bit angry, and Sanji paused to analyze her meaning as his smile faded, "if Zoro heard you talking like that, he'd be upset." 

Normally he would have known she was kidding, but her tone and the nagging suspicions in his head – that Zoro really _was _the type who could fall in love – were making a strong case for Sanji to take her words seriously. He nodded, and leaned against the railing, tossing away another cigarette that had been extinguished by the breaking waves. "Yeah, but he'd never show it." 

"Maybe not to you, but I happen to observe people very well. He'd stalk around in a huff and take it out on everyone—just like he did a few weeks ago, when the two of you had that argument after lunch."

Sanji nodded slowly, and seemed to understand what she was saying. "So was that when you figured it out?"

Her sigh was contemplative, indecisive. "I'm not sure. It was what sealed my conclusion, that's true. But the way he had been looking at you, following you around with his eyes when he thought no one else was looking...for a long time he seemed to be thinking about something, and not just how much he loathed you." 

Weighing in the reality that he was nearly soaked from the blasts of cool sea spray, he decided against lighting another cigarette, no matter how much he needed it to aide his concentration. "For once." 

Nami scooted closer, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're too hard on yourself." She cooed with a soft, placating voice. Sanji felt the truth of what he had said to Zoro sinking in deeper than ever before. The obligation, the respect, the lines. With Nami, everything was so defined, so well-ordered. For the first time since he had set foot on the weathered deck of the _Going Merry_, the last thing on his mind was how beautiful, how intoxicating and perfect a conquest she was. As he lifted his arm and cupped it against Nami's shoulder, he felt a delicious calm settle in his stomach. 

"I love you, Nami," He sighed peacefully, weighing in another reality, which wasn't as cruel as he had feared it would be, "I need you here." 

She gave a small, feminine chuckle inside of her throat, and smiled warmly at the ocean in front of them. "I know," she whispered, "I'm just sorry I was never—" 

"No.  No, you've been perfect. I mean, don't think I'll change my feelings, don't think you'll stop being my favorite person in the world." He hugged her with a quick pull, like a sister, or a best friend. It didn't hurt so much to consider her that way. "But don't think I won't try to kick the shit out of the first guy who tries to move in on you, either." 

"I can take care of myself," Nami replied, although he could see out of the corner of his eye that she was still smiling, "but I don't think you can." 

He was nonplussed, waiting for her to go on. His capacity for indignation had been stolen by the quiet comfort of the moment. Thankfully, she read his silence as a prompt, and continued. "Not in the emotional sense. I learned, over a long, long time, to survive on my own, to focus my own happiness. But you, everything you do, from your job to your dream to the way you choose your words when you talk....you're always out to make someone else happy....and that gives you peace of mind. That gives you your strength." 

"I always thought it was just ego." He replied, his tone blank and considerate. Her words were making far too much sense. 

She elbowed him gently in the stomach, and laughed. "You might think you know yourself, but you've got a long way to go before you're as good as I am. I can read people."

"Then tell me what I'm thinking right now." He looked down at her earnestly, setting his face in a cool, dauntless expression. 

Expectedly, she hesitated. "I don't mean like that!" She drew back and put her hands on her hips, then took a longer look at him. "But it's strange..." she smiled, "I _can _almost tell." 

"Then tell me. If you're right, I promise I'll take whatever advice you have to give me." 

She smirked, unable as always to turn down a bet, however intangible it was. "You're thinking that you don't know why you can't be as comfortable around him as you are with me. And it's killing you, because you want to be. But you're afraid of something."

A flourish of blonde hair flapped over his eyes as another whistling gust of wind blew past the ship. 

"What is it I'm afraid of, Nami?" 

She shook her head slowly, sadly. "You don't know, do you? I can't help you with that," she sighed and moved forward, offering him a gentle, comforting hug, "I'm sorry." 

"I'll still take your advice." He said, his voice suddenly weak and unsure. 

Nami lifted a hand and smoothed back her hair as she pulled away, gripping Sanji's arm's meaningfully. "Compromise." She said simply. 

"Compromise." 

"When the time comes, I think you'll understand what I mean." Mysteriously, she offered him a parting smile, and turned to walk off. He listened to her heels clunking slowly away, and stared out at the hypnotic movement of the water.

They had been stealing timid kisses on the stairs and hurried touches in the dark, but he and Zoro seemed to be stuck right where they always had been. Teetering precariously on the edge of friendship, looking down the crevice of something deeper, but forbidden to simply let go, and fall. He was left understandably bitter by their last proper encounter, resentful that things had moved so far beyond control in such a short span of time. He wanted things beyond what gave him that excitement and zest for his own desire. Even though his body swam with heat whenever Zoro so much as touched his shoulder, brushed his lips, he couldn't help being selfish. 

If Zoro felt he needed a woman, Sanji was determined to prove him wrong. The weeks had been long, each day turning into a personal vision quest, aimlessly searching for a sign that might not have even existed. But he wanted what was promised on the other side of friendship. He wanted to see what would happen to fall in love with someone he craved, who craved him in return. 

His breath sped up as he considered it. The word 'love' had certainly entered his mind before, more as a fanciful consideration than a true assessment of his own feelings. But lately at night his sleep had been restless. It was hurting more and more to let go of Zoro after they kissed, to take no more than he was offered, no more than they were able. 

He realized, with some humiliation and quiet regret, what a child he had been only a few days ago. Still clinging to the notion that he had known love, that he had experienced it whole-heartedly, with all of his soul. Naivete, infatuation, and nothing more. Nami was his dearest confidant, an object of unparalleled perfection in his eyes, but he had been silly to call his one-sided worship true love. 

_If that was true love, _he considered, absently touching his chest as his heart throbbed in a painful, hauntingly unfamiliar way, _then I'd hate to know what this is._

~*~*~

That night, for the first time that he could remember, he woke up screaming. 

He sat bolt upright, his body weak but his adrenaline coursing strong. The dream, the sounds, visions that had awakened him – they flashed through his mind again. He had to shake his head, force them out before he could even grasp the reality of where he was.

Luffy only muttered his concern. "Oi, Sanji....?" He cooed, half-asleep. 

"I'm fine." Sanji said huskily, still sitting up as his hammock swung slower and slower, recovering from the mighty jolt of his awakening. He stared ahead at the wall, and heard soft footsteps at the door. 

"Is everything all right?" Nami's voice called. 

"Nightmare, Nami-san," he said, unable to even muster his usual lilting tone for her, "go back to sleep." 

She ducked out politely, without another word. 

Sanji glanced over at the next hammock, the inexplicable lump of fear still blocking his throat of all but the most hollow, shaking breath. 

Zoro stared back at him, obviously disconcerted but silent nevertheless. Sanji felt his bottom lip tremble as he tried to form words, tried to muster up the same courage to tell Zoro that he was perfectly fine, and this was nothing to worry about. 

But he wasn't fine. There were still flashes. Memories. Screams in his mind. 

"I need some air." He stood up quickly, and turned his eyes shamefully from Zoro's before running out of the small room. 

One half wanted Zoro to follow, the other half was petrified of what would happen, what would be said if he did. Sanji knew exactly what he wanted to do, what his dream had awakened inside of him. 

The sea had calmed considerably since that afternoon. As he pushed the door open and broke out into the open air, he sucked down a breath that wasn't half as refreshing as it should have been. He clutched his stomach, which growled angrily at being forced out of bed so unexpectedly. 

_So I've found it....I found what I'm afraid of. _

He cupped his hands and hid his face, throwing his back against the wall of the cabin. Cold night wind skimmed the deck, bouncing in one direction and then another, as the sails rippled noisily above. He matched the smell of the sea to the images in his dream, and he pushed his shaking hands back through his hair. 

"You fool..." he whispered harshly to himself, and gritted his teeth. He had promised Zoro, silently in his own mind, that he wouldn't cry again, not over simple things. But was this really so simple? Was this really so inconsequential, that he didn't deserve the reaction he wanted to wallow in?

"Sanji." 

Zoro had appeared at the door, and he closed it gently behind himself as Sanji wondered what to say. He didn't want to be the first to speak. He didn't want to say the words that were waiting, spring-loaded on the tip of his tongue. 

But he did. "How could I fall in love with you?" 

The shock hit Zoro forcefully, and Sanji watched his entire body clench, his eyes pulsing and his mouth softly gaping at the words. "You...what?" 

"I knew it when I met you! How selfish you are." He looked Zoro up and down, watched his shirt flap loose in the breeze. The lack of his haramaki made him appear almost delicate in the moonlight, with his face bowed from disbelief. Sanji looked away. 

"Sanji....I don't understand. What woke you up?" he fought back a grimace of anger and went on, still desperate to understand and smooth over the problem, "I came out here to find out if you were all right, and you just attacked me! What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything, but...I can't convince myself...that it will always be so simple." 

"What?"

Sanji tried to think back to Nami's words, tried to realize that Zoro, as improbable as it may have seemed, had feelings too. But when he thought, and remembered, and cursed himself for having forgotten the simplest of truths, Sanji simply couldn't accept it. 

"I dreamt about....that time. When we first met. When....when you fought _him._" 

Zoro took a step back, and knew better than to respond right away. Sanji knew that he may have been evoking memories that were painful to both of them, but things were far too complicated at that point to take anyone's feelings into consideration. 

Sniffling in the cold air, staring down at the deck blankly, Sanji went on. "This time...you never came out of the water. You died. Right after I met you," he paused, "it seemed so real." 

"It wasn't." Zoro offered immediately.

"I didn't expect you to come out the first time, either. Even after you did, I hardly expected you to live. Up until we left Arlong Park, I....I kept expecting you to die. Somehow. I was just so prepared for it. When you met me you told me your life belonged to your dream, that you'd rather die than leave it unfulfilled." 

"That's right." Zoro responded, his voice confident, but sad just beneath the surface. Sanji heard him, heard the force and lack of hesitation in his reply. He wrapped his arms around himself and hunched low, trying to find someway to hide inside his own facade. But eventually, he knew he'd have to face Zoro and the truth, as much as he wanted to simply disappear, go back to the past and start things all over again. 

He turned around, taking no attempts to hide the tears on his face, and walked the few steps to where Zoro stood. Barefoot and waiting, they both stared at each other; Sanji too hesitant to speak, and Zoro too stunned to do anything but look. 

His hand was warm despite the cold of the night, and he lifted it to Zoro's cheek. The light bumps of stubble scratched his fingers, and he managed a tiny, twitching smile in spite of himself. He was thoroughly hateful of the moment, of fate and irony and the truth about the man he had been led to adore. With a little lift of his feet, he kissed him, and drew away very slowly, not particularly wanting to savor the moment, but desperate for any time. 

"I can't take that chance." He finally said, his voice broken by the stress of his own misgivings. 

Zoro started, ready to say something, ready to defend himself. But the look on his face, as much as it broke Sanji's heart to see it, was one of confusion. "I don't.....understand." 

Sanji sniffed loudly and gently wiped at his tears. These were too important to be rubbed off angrily. He wanted to keep these tears a little longer. "No one in their right mind would fall in love with you," Sanji gulped, somehow finding the courage to explain himself, "it's a gamble even I'm too smart to make. At any moment, on any day, my dream could come true. I don't want to gamble my heart, my life, my desire...on someone who's in love with his own ambition. It's too painful to imagine. You said you don't like losing things once you have them...but maybe you should hold the mirror up and see what position you've put all of us in."

He turned away from Zoro, and after the air chilled the tips of his ears for a few moments, he suddenly heard a reply, unbreakably firm and painful to take. "That's not fair." 

A twinge of gladness resonated in his emotional state, happy that he had upset him, happy that his problem was now Zoro's, too. He knew he was being unreasonable. But it was the reason one half of him hadn't wanted Zoro to follow in the first place. 

Zoro went on. "That's not fair and you know it. You promised me—" he broke off his sentence and Sanji heard him take a step which ended mid-stride. There was a moment of silence, and when he heard Zoro's voice again it was calmer, softer, making a desperate attempt to be the mature one for once, "....I believed that maybe I finally knew someone who understood. Someone who was not only accepting of my life, but right there, living it with me. If you're not strong enough to do that—" 

Sanji wheeled around and narrowed his eyes, shouting right back at him. "I don't want to watch you die!" 

"Then leave," Zoro said flatly, loudly, pointing into the vast ocean ahead. He waited until Sanji's face showed the effect of his words, and continued, "we're both out there, risking our lives every day. We can't go back to normal lives, not one of us can! Just because your dream is different than mine doesn't mean you aren't risking your life, too. And it _doesn't _mean I'm going to die!" 

"I don't want to have to worry about it, though, or know that something more is at stake than...well..." he trailed off. Even he didn't want to sound that selfish. There was something so cruel about implying that Zoro's death would mean less if they weren't in love. 

"You could try believing in me."

Logical simplicity in his words, the same as always.

"I do," Sanji answered quickly, "I believe you can do it and I believe it's your destiny. But...it's a lot easier to do that when I'm not expecting you to come back and hold me every night." 

"Sanji, let me ask you a question." 

It was still stunning, breathtaking to hear Zoro say his name like that, without the pretense of trying to get his attention, outside the view of the others. Though his skin bristled with appreciation at it, his face remained inconsolable as he turned around. 

Zoro stared at him fiercely, his expression and stance indicative of a much deeper emotion than he was expressing. 

"Ask." But he was terrified to know. 

"Why do you think you love me?" 

Maybe it wasn't the question, or the implication at all. Maybe it wasn't the gruff, expectant way Zoro forced out the word 'love.' In fact, Sanji knew it wasn't any of that which hit him so hard. It was the word 'think,' 

"I do love you." He responded in a flash, gritting his teeth and looking down at the deck, hoping his pained expression was hidden by the usual curtain of blonde. 

"Mmhmm," Zoro assessed his words gently, making no judgment, showing no reaction. Not yet, "why? Why not one of the hundreds of girls you fall for every day?" 

He felt a pang of guilt, but found his brain echoing Zoro's own defense. _That's not fair and you know it..._

"Because I know you. You understand who I am, what I do...I can be myself with you." 

"And Nami?" Zoro jutted one hip out and placed his hand there, piercing Sanji's heart with his tone. 

"Leave her out of this!" Sanji yelled, his fists clenching on instinct, "she...she doesn't have feelings for me. Not in that way." 

"And who said that I _did_?"

The night was being quiet to torture him. Not even the whistle of a fierce wind, or the crash of choppy waters, was there to dull the impact of Zoro's words. Just the gentle thrum of the breeze, the same flapping of the sails that always was. He stared up at Zoro, dumbstruck. His practiced poker face showed no mercy, no sympathy. He stared down at Sanji with what looked like anger, disgust, or something worse. 

Words. Something. Anything at all would have been enough, but Sanji's throat wouldn't loosen, his mouth just wouldn't do anything but gape. 

"I told you before. I told you so many times, but I thought that you finally understood," Zoro narrowed his eyes, and scowled, "this is exactly what I knew would happen. Don't think I haven't hurt people before. Don't think I haven't conditioned myself to turn away any time something like this happens. I can't love you, Sanji, because you can't accept me. Not the full scope of what I am, what I plan to become. The risk involved. You don't have the strength to believe. Not as much as I'd need you to."

"But....but you—" 

"Everything I did, everywhere I allowed this to go, was because of my faith in YOU. I thought this conversation would never happen. I thought the answers were too obvious," he sighed, and cursed under his breath, "you've wounded me. You've taken everything I never gave to anyone, not ever before—and you effectively destroyed it." 

Sanji stared down, eyes wide, chest pounding. He gripped a ball of fabric in a fist right over his heart, and tightened until his knuckles felt numb. _Nami....._ his brain spun in the silence, _what do I do now...?_

_What do I do? _

_"Compromise."_

His strength gave out. He collapsed to his knees and crumpled, slouching as he heaved a dry, angry sob. "Bastard. Bastard!" 

Zoro was still staring him down, unmoving, lording over his breakdown. "I wanted to try. But I'm not going to feel guilty. Not for who I am, not for what you knew about me from the very beginning. Nothing has changed since then. The only thing that can change now is you." 

"I know that." Sanji's voice quaked, his body still limp and prone. He looked up, a little too far, letting his hair cover his eyes, keeping his expression as drawn and dead as he felt. "I know that." He whispered again.

"Then come back to me when you're stronger." Zoro said, his words blearily familiar, foggy someway when they dealt with matters of the heart and not the sword. As Zoro turned to the door, Sanji's lips trembled again. He found himself fighting so hard, hurdling over his doubts and self-loathing before his voice rang out. He heard the voice of a child, the only part of him that still seemed courageous enough to fight, in the face of the biggest risk he would probably ever take. 

"NO!" 

Zoro only glanced down, and then continued, determined to escape. 

With a midnight strength he was barely able to control, Sanji sprang to his feet, and lashed out toward Zoro. One long, leaping stretch of his body was enough to bar him from the door, enough to let his palm connect, in a final refusal, against Zoro's face. 

Though Zoro didn't move, he held out his arm to catch Sanji as he stumbled forward, too delirious to focus his own steps. His long, skinny arms flopped lazily as he fell into the crook of Zoro's elbow. He panted, "No...don't walk away again. I won't do this again." 

He blinked his eyes and stared down at his hand. It stung, throbbing from the force and exertion of his blow. He couldn't believe, not even in his half-fainting, already dreamlike state, that he had done that. Striking out with his hand against Roronoa Zoro. 

"You weren't worth that," he growled softly, grimacing as angrily as he could. 

Zoro was still holding him, but not moving, not even turning his head back around. Gazing in opposite directions, they sank into the vicinity of each other, knowing it was too comfortable to be a bad place. "I know," Zoro whispered back gruffly, "but I wanted to see if you'd do it." 

Sanji smirked, still hanging limply over Zoro's arm. He was angry, undeniably. But as long as Zoro remained, there was hope. Hope that he wouldn't have to spend the night in solitary confusion. Hope for tomorrow in his heart, which still pounded and burned as implacably as ever. "I see. You really are a bastard. All that to rile me up?" 

"No, just the leaving part. I've meant everything I said." 

"Oh." 

"You wanted to end this, too. Why were you so adamant to stay, then, when I agreed?"

Sanji bit his bottom lip. The answer was so clear, but how could it possibly be communicated? He wasn't as wonderful with words as he wanted to be, not when situations like this cropped up. "Because I wanted you to be hurt. I wanted you to be guilty. I wanted you to have loved me too." 

As heavy as the silence was between them, it was no longer torture. Sanji found a place for his foolish hope despite the wall that still remained. "I'm more patient than I seem, sometimes," Zoro sighed, "I'll wait as long as I have to, for you to change." 

"I can't change, Zoro," he whispered painfully, "I can't take this back now, and I think no matter what happens, I won't be able to look you in the eye and say I wouldn't feel abandoned, betrayed, regretful....if you died fighting. That's simple." 

"Well, then—"

"But I can compromise." 

Zoro sighed heavily. "How can you possibly do that? This issue is black and white." 

"No," Sanji was getting more used to saying the word. He straightened up and stood next to Zoro, taking the weight off his arm but still not glancing over. He could smell him, he could feel his warmth, but until he said what needed to be said, there was no use in looking. "it's not. I can still believe in you, as fiercely as I have. I'm the one who placed battles in your hands. I'm the one who trusts you when you're the only one there to cover my ass. If you think that isn't believing in you, then...well...think what you want. But it is. I'll believe, I'll accept. All you have to do is let yourself go." 

The muscles in Zoro's arm tightened. Sanji watched them, and heard the breath beside him gasp softly. "To what end?" 

"To loving me. Of course." 

Zoro was conspicuously unresponsive.

"I know you want to." 

"Fuck you." 

Sanji smirked, happy to hear the usual retort. Comfort returned all at once on the heels of that insult, and he felt enough of a place in Zoro's arms to lean against him gently. "You've been looking for a reason. Ever since we started. You always look for a reason to run. I'm compromising my own needs, my own determination to keep you here, so why can't you do the same?" 

Somehow, he could sense that if Zoro had a katana at his disposal, it would be pointing steadily at his throat. He smiled at the thought. "My determination isn't easily compromised." 

"Oh, I know that," he patted Zoro's shoulder and, his thoughts still somewhat muddled by doubt, tried to walk past, "I just want you to know I'm that one thing you won't be able to run away from." He doubled back and pushed his nose into Zoro's face. Zoro was surprised, affronted, but certainly didn't pull away, "And I don't think you want to." 

He pecked him on the lips, a litmus test of Zoro's ability to handle it. When the kiss wasn't rebuffed, he tried again, pushing a little harder, a little fuller. His lips were thin and soft, used to kissing hands and pursing against wine glasses. They hardly had the same force as Zoro's. 

On this second kiss, Zoro's lips pushed back. Finally parting, he lifted his hand through Sanji's hair, rearranging what the wind had knocked askew. "I'll give it some thought," He sighed, cold and distant, but Sanji could see the faintest hint of a smile forming beneath the words, "do you think you can really sleep tonight?" 

It took Sanji a moment to understand that Zoro's question was one of true concern, and not simply sensual suggestion. He would have minded neither. "I don't know," he turned his head and glanced back into the darkness of the cabin, "I have a lot I could keep myself up thinking about. I don't want to get distressed again." 

"Baka," Zoro grabbed him and pulled him forward, embracing him firmly as he sighed. "Then you're sleeping with me tonight."

Sanji's eyebrows flew up and he was quietly shocked. "What? You mean...together?" It was a foolish thing to ask; of course that was what he meant, but Sanji couldn't manage to wrap his brain around it. With all the secrecy and shadows their relationship had been steeped in, there was no way the speculation wouldn't fly if the others woke up to see them cuddled together in the same hammock. 

As tempting, and heartwarming, as it was to have the invitation. 

"Yes. If anyone says anything they'll have to deal with both of us, and I don't think anyone is up to that."

"You know, you're right," Sanji grinned, enjoying the warmth of Zoro's body, "so you're ready to go public, eh?" 

Zoro made an odd face, half-sneering with the usual ennui. "Couldn't hurt anything." 

Sanji took him by the wrist and led the rest of the way, smiling triumphantly on the inside, still stumbling with sleepiness, and determined not to dwell too much on the night's events. 

As they stood next to the hammock, Luffy's snores drowning out any whispers except to each other, Sanji turned Zoro's face and kissed his cheek, where his palm had struck earlier. "I'm sorry." 

"I'm not," Zoro said simply, and fell not-quite-gracefully into the hammock. Though Sanji knew there was more than enough room for two bodies, he still blushed, grateful that the darkness was hiding his suddenly coy expression, "come on, get in, I'm tired, here." 

"Oi, oi, I am, too." Sanji muttered in response, letting out a frustrated hiss. It took a bit of balance and maneuvering, but finally he tucked himself comfortably into the curves of Zoro's body. With a pleasant smile, he sighed and tilted his head back. 

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?" 

"If I kiss you goodnight, you're going to kiss me back, we're going to keep going, I'm going to get hard, you're going to get hard, and we're gonna end up fucking right here in the hammock, now sleep."

He was silent for a beat. "Would you really—"

"Just go to sleep!" He tossed one arm over Sanji's body. Sanji felt frail by comparison, but that was expected. 

"Goodnight." He breathed. 

Zoro snored in response. 

~*~*~

Sanji woke up to an unmistakably large pair of eyes, leveled with his head, mere inches from his face. 

"AHHH!" he reared back, unintentionally reaching up to slap Zoro in the face. In the chaos that followed, somehow they both ended up on the floor, and neither was very happy about it. 

Luffy grinned down at them. "Good morning!" 

"You asshole, you don't wake someone up like that!" Sanji sat up and barked in his face. Luffy simply leaned back, smiled stupidly, and called out. 

"Oi, Ussop! They woke up!" He waited for a few moments, then scratched his head, "I guess he got tired of waiting. Hey, why were you two sleeping together?" 

"I'm going to kill you...." was all Zoro could muster, face-down and too tired to otherwise move. Sanji, beleaguered and now bruised, immediately pulled out a cigarette and found himself completely calm about it.

"Because we felt like it." He responded simply, cupping his hands to light a match. 

"Okay!" Luffy replied, nodding in satisfaction with the answer. With that, he marched out of the room, humming a random tune as he left. Sanji watched him leave, a bit puzzled. 

"That damn guy," he shook his head and exhaled pointedly, "aye, Zoro. Zoro." He looked over and was not surprised to find that Zoro had been able to return to slumber, even after the frantic tumble of their awakening. 

A few pokes, and Zoro turned halfway, striking an unintentional pose as he blinked up at Sanji drowsily. "Mm?" 

Sanji grinned evilly around his cigarette, "You look really cute. Makes me wanna eat you up." 

"Don't let your mouth write checks that your ass can't cash." Zoro grumbled, and somehow found the alertness to sit up. After the obligatory stretch of his arms, he arched his back and Sanji heard a few popping noises. 

"That's so creepy. Don't do that around me." 

"You've never had your back cracked?" 

"No, and I'd rather not. I think it's fine the way it is." 

But before he could put up any defenses, before he even knew he should have, Zoro's fingers clutched him, kneading into his shoulders. "Oh, really? You feel awfully tense." 

With a little head-rush, the prickling sensation of ecstasy, Sanji couldn't help but let his head roll back as he puffed lazily. "Are you going to give me a massage?" 

He hoped beyond all hope that the answer was yes, but Zoro didn't even feel the need to give one. He simply pushed Sanji slightly forward, and continued to work his fingers into the muscles. 

"Mmmmm.....bastard....that feels really good...." 

"Lay down. On your belly." He did as he was told, powerless under the spell of Zoro's fingers. They were rough and calloused, yes, but every touch was so firm, so perfect. In the places where the tension ran so much deeper, his thumbs brought goose-bumps to Sanji's skin, and in the tender places where he was usually so sensitive, Zoro's fingers managed to work out the ripples of stress, calming his entire body to a practically comatose state. 

The sounds he found himself making, he couldn't care less what the others would think if they heard. If they ran to investigate, HE was still the one being treated to the overwhelmingly wonderful massage. Not them. They could gawk and giggle all they wanted, but he was still in heaven. 

After several minutes, Zoro's fingers left his back. Sanji murmured with echoes of tiny moans, the strength of his ecstasy hardly abetting. "Zoro....that was fantastic. I never knew you could—" 

He gulped back his words in surprise when he felt Zoro's hands cup one of his feet. "I'll bet you've never had these feet massaged."

With every touch they had exchanged, this one seemed to trump them all. Sanji suddenly felt the most intimate charge in his mind, exploding very softly through his supine body. He groaned loudly, appreciatively, and closed his eyes. "No." He practically pouted. 

Again, he knew Zoro was smiling, as his hands began work on what Sanji had somehow just realized was his most sensitive zone. He arched his back and writhed a bit, drawing a suggestive little noise from Zoro when he did. "This is turning you on?" Zoro asked heavily. 

"Yes." Sanji whined, absolutely mesmerized by the sensations he was feeling. Nothing very carnal and powerful, but something, some little erogenous tickle that made his stomach flutter. 

"Maybe I should save it, then." Zoro responded, slowly softening his grip. Sanji whimpered in disappointment, and turned around to tell Zoro exactly what he thought of that. 

"You're a—"

"LAND HO!!!" They suddenly heard from the deck. 

The _Going Merry _wasn't supposed to reach Loguetown for another four days, at least. The two exchanged a quick, befuddled look, and scrambled to their feet quickly. Eager as Sanji had been to find out the lengths to which his pleasure would go at the mercy of Zoro's more savory touches, he was more eager to know how the plans, as they were, had changed. 


	5. Chapter Five

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter Five

"Betoni Island?"

Nami nodded exuberantly and threw her arm out toward the lush island ahead, sitting tiny and unassuming in the middle of the vast ocean. Zoro and Sanji both pulled a similar face, as Luffy came bouncing down from the upper deck to fill them in.

"It's uninhabited rainforest! The perfect place for adventure!" Luffy yelled ecstatically, springy steps taking him to his usual seat on the masthead of the _Going Merry. _He struck an explorer's pose, one leg up and arms akimbo, as he laughed heartily. 

"Oi, no adventure today, Luffy, I have a headache," Zoro sighed in disappointment at the latest turn of events. 

"No one ever goes there—it's pure wilderness! It's too small for an industrious village, and its too remote for any efficient harvesting of its resources!" Nami seemed far more enthusiastic than Sanji would have expected her to be, but somehow he had a feeling that her motives in pointing out the island had not been purely personal ones, "we can take a quick vacation before we go any further, without any fear of being targeted!" 

"Are you sure about that?" Sanji raised one eyebrow suspiciously.

Her nod was immediate, decisive. "There's no beach on Betoni Island—a winding canal cuts the land in two, and that's the only safe place to dock. The rest of the coast is rocky, innavigable. No one would see us, I'm positive." 

"Far be it from me to doubt you," he smiled, his fears abated. With that, he turned to Zoro, who still appeared rather leery of the idea, "if anyone needs a rest, it's you. I'm sure this isn't treating you kindly, still." 

Hardly thinking, he pressed his palm to Zoro's chest, feeling the bumps of the still-unhealed wound from his battle with Hawk-Eyes Mihawk. For a moment, Sanji's eyes widened with vivid memories of the previous night, but with a soft cough and a quick drag of his cigarette, he managed to keep them at bay. 

Zoro slapped his hand away with a grunt. "Feh. So we're going to cool our heels on some island? Fine, why not. I have no reason to argue." 

He spotted a shaded spot on the lower deck and started toward it, presumably for a quick nap before they reached the island. As he passed Sanji, he managed to breathe, "You never know, it might be _fun_." In a sly, sadistic voice that made every inch of the cook's body tremble momentarily. 

Nami sashayed up to him, noticing that he was still in a bit of a state. "You look excited," she giggled. 

Sanji smirked. "Don't tell me this was your idea." 

"Oh, you probably knew I had a matchmaker hiding somewhere inside of me." She grinned mischievously, and her hand brushed Sanji's elbow when she stopped beside him. "I just figured that it would give me a chance to enjoy myself while still giving you two a chance to get to know each other a little more personally."

She winked, sending Sanji's heart rocketing into his throat. He blushed from head to toe, simply considering that Nami would ever...could ever even think of him....doing that...

Teeth clenched around his cigarette, he felt his groin tighten. _Damnit._

"You're kind." He managed in response. 

"Mmhmm," she chirped, and just before she passed by, he saw her eyes wander toward his midsection before offering him a quick pulse of her eyebrows. 

He stood there for the longest time after that, frozen in place, until he forced his feet to move, allowed them to stalk over and interrupt Zoro's sleep. 

"Get up." He commanded flatly, reaching down to yank at one dead-weight arm.  

Zoro swore loudly. "Can't I get a FEW minutes of sleep without you barging in?" He glared up at Sanji with tired, intoxicatingly vulnerable eyes.

"Get the fuck up." Sanji snarled, and glanced around for a few moments. Luffy was still perched on the sheep's-head. Ussop was manning the crow's nest. He felt rather confident about not getting caught as he guided Zoro's hand with no hesitation to his swollen crotch, "I need you for something."

He had seen very little snap Zoro into full consciousness so quickly. 

With Nami holing up as she normally did in her makeshift study, the safest place once again turned out to be the galley. The door barely closed behind them, and Sanji was already flattening himself against Zoro, breathing fast into his ear, rubbing himself fiercely against one hard, muscular thigh. 

Too stunned to suggest anything different, Zoro leaned back against the wall, surrendering his body to Sanji's intense ministrations. Sanji's mind reeled but he was determined to give into his instincts, to use Zoro for exactly what he wanted, just as it had been after the Marine battle all those days ago. As it became apparent that Zoro wasn't predisposed to any objections, he took a final puff of his cigarette and tossed it into the sink. 

"What are you doing?" Zoro finally asked roughly, his voice receptive, intrigued, but confused. 

With an arch of his back and an evil grin, Sanji raked the bulge of his erection against Zoro's leg harshly. "Getting off," he gasped, punctuating the rather blunt explanation with a wet, hurried kiss. 

"Wouldn't it be easier if I...." Zoro reached for his hip, but with a steel grip Sanji clutched his wrist. 

"No! No....just let me...let me do this..." he breathed raggedly, still rocking himself in a steady rhythm against his lover's ample muscle. Zoro felt a bit of moisture warm the fabric of his pants, felt Sanji's fullness press against him so firmly that he could envision every detail of it, inch by ridiculously thick inch. 

"Suit yourself," Zoro exhaled, unable to hide his own fascination. After a few more moments, a few more hot blasts of Sanji's breath into his ear, he whispered, "but I want to touch it." 

"Oh yeah?" Sanji smiled to himself, now moving at a rapid stroke, "you didn't seem so eager when you were fucking me." 

A strange jolt went through him then, a peculiar intense reaction to his own voice. It felt good to hear himself talking like that. Those words simply heightened the carnal reality of their position, elevated it to a pedestal of hedonistic indulgence. He wanted to hear more, he wanted to say more. He was giving into the urges he had thought only came to mind at Zoro's mercy, wanting to do everything dirty and unrefined now that he had no appearances to keep. He wondered if it would feel even better to hear Zoro's voice, saying those things. 

"Cocksucker." Zoro growled, and Sanji noted the beads of sweat on his forehead, the telltale way he furrowed his brow. 

"Oh, no, not quite yet, but if you really want me to, I could be persuaded..." he almost laughed, finding it hard to form words in between his frantic, erratic breathing. 

Zoro gave his closest approximation of a chuckle, a short gust of breath and the echo of a growl as his lips curled ever-so-slightly. Though it pained him to prolong the agony of waiting for release, Sanji forced himself to slow down, changing his rhythm and the roll of his hips, moving against the slickened spot on Zoro's pant leg with a deep, guttural moan. 

"Change your mind?" Zoro remarked cockily at his change of pace. 

Sanji suddenly wished that Zoro's hair was like his own, long enough to wind his fingers in and tug insistently, adding an undeniable force to his words. He tried to replicate the ferocity with his mouth alone, dragging it next to Zoro's ear, passing by his earrings to heave one unquestionable directive. "Talk dirty to me." 

There was the expected confusion, though Zoro was considerate enough not to spoil the mood. "I'm not sure I can." 

"Of course you can," Sanji found one hand traveling over Zoro's body, over the broad, rippling expanse of his abdomen and past the bas-relief of his scar. Before continuing he clenched one of Zoro's nipples between his fingers, and twisted, his smile catlike as he did, "what do you want to do to me?" 

Zoro arched against the wall, gasping and hissing, his eyebrows bowing in pleasure despite it all, "Damnit! Just...just finish already!" 

"No." Sanji answered firmly, reaching down to cup Zoro's own burgeoning hardness in his fingers. "I know you can....come on...." he tightened his grip, and began to massage the fast-firming handful, "I'll make you feel good...if you do..." 

"This isn't a good start to our vacation, bastard!" Zoro said through clenched teeth, unable to deny what his full-fledged erection was now loudly proclaiming. 

With a smile, Sanji stroked Zoro through his pants, still nursing his own concerns as slowly as the encounter was progressing. "And what were you planning on doing once we get to that island?" He pushed his lips close to Zoro's, close enough to let their eyes dance together angrily, "didn't you say we got to do things my way?" 

"I think this constitutes your way, you fucker," Zoro's teeth still ground together, as he fought against the urge to overcome the tension by force, "this is....it's....damn...." 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He smiled. Zoro muttered vaguely in response, but Sanji could tell he agreed. "Well, fine. If you won't cooperate, we'll try again later." With a smirk, he rode Zoro's thigh a little harder, every phantom memory of soft curves and delicate sex now replaced with the all-possessing desire for Zoro to be inside him again. He tightened his hand around the hardness at Zoro's groin, remembering the breathtaking feeling, the unparalleled mixture of bittersweet pleasure...

"Sanji...." Zoro's voice broke into his reverie, and suddenly his hand came down on top of Sanji's, "are you—"

Maybe it was the feeling of his hand, maybe it was the sound of his voice, but whatever happened in that moment sent Sanji spiraling uncontrollably over the edge. With a rush he had been foolish to think he would be able to control, he let a miniature, rolling scream escape, every nuance of pitch and tempo and breath spilling directly into Zoro's ear. As he slowed his rhythm, the warm wetness of his release spread over the fabric of their clothes, and Sanji calmed himself enough to smile. "Fuck...oh, fuck....." he panted, head still spinning. 

He slumped against Zoro's shoulder, and chuckled deeply. "I feel very dirty right now." 

Zoro, though Sanji's hand and his own were still cupping his groin, felt enough sympathy to answer, "Yeah, I know, you just came all over my pants." 

"No," Sanji leaned back slightly and bunched Zoro's shirt in his free fist, more for effect than anything else, "I mean I want to be very bad." 

His eyes, he knew, sparkled with something completely different. A glimmer of independence ignited behind them, firing his brain and illuminating the fact that, once and for all, things had changed. He wasn't the same old Sanji who nurtured his ego, fed it through women and wine, and only ended up getting shoved around in the end anyway. He wasn't the glorified little boy who fought for no good reason and took out his frustrations on his own psyche. 

Not in the least. This was the Sanji that took matters into his own hands, believed in his honor, and fought for his pride. This was the Sanji that knew himself well enough to know what he wanted. 

"I want to suck you." He couldn't believe the words, even when they escaped his mouth.

He'd never had a blow job, himself. None of his debutantes and lonely trophy wives had ever been the type. And the "bad girls," well....those were not the element his ego had desired. And somehow, Zoro didn't intimidate him. This worldly swordsman of honor, so brimming with ambition and life's lessons, didn't even seem the type that would have experienced the gamut of corporeal pleasure by his own lonely explorations. In fact, Sanji hadn't been very shocked at all to learn that their initial kiss had been Zoro's first. Surprised to hear him say it, more than anything. 

He felt perfectly confident that any effort whatsoever wouldn't go to waste on Zoro.

"Want to finish what you started, eh?" Zoro's hand came up behind his head, and combed through his hair. Sanji suddenly remembered what he had tragically almost forgotten. The events of that day seemed so distant, so long ago, only Zoro's words finally confirmed that they had happened at all. Even now, though, with the memories so fleetingly gossamer in his mind, he remembered the taste. 

His palate was a sensitive one, but something about Zoro made his mind twist around everything that was potentially offensive, and focus on the simple truth: he had to taste it again. Deeper, more fully. 

_I want to,_ he repeated to himself, pulling Zoro into a sudden, powerful kiss. _I want to!_

"Make me feel like a whore," he suddenly whimpered, not at all sure where the words were coming from. Zoro gasped against his mouth, and pulled back slightly. But Sanji just kept talking, still not entirely in control of what he was expressing, "you heard me. I want to be filthy for you." 

Zoro paused, his lips unmoving against Sanji's, moving aside when he spoke. "Sanji....what in the world makes you want that?" 

Suddenly he found the weight of his desires almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. "I just do," he reiterated, "you're never kind to me any other moment of the day, so don't start now! Take it all out on me if you want to, just—" 

Before he could go on, before he realized he no longer needed to, he was interrupted. Zoro's hand fell on top of his head. "All right," and pushed him firmly to his knees. His face was cold, deadpan as usual, even as he said, "but don't cry about this later."

A worshipful look crossed Sanji's face as he collapsed in front of Zoro, almost tempted to say something smartass in response. But no. The moment was just too fleeting. Besides, they'd be reaching land any time now. 

He pressed forward, acquainting his mouth with the view, pursing his lips against the tiny wellspring of dampness at the tip of Zoro's cloistered erection. Immediately, Zoro's stomach clenched above him, and his fingers tightened in Sanji's hair. A little moan was enough to let Sanji know that he was doing exactly what was expected, exactly what was appreciated. 

Smiling triumphantly, he slid his hands beneath Zoro's haramaki and clutched the band of his pants, bringing it down in a slow but steady pull. He listened intently, and was more than pleased to hear the gasp of relief from Zoro when he was finally freed from the already too-tight fabric.  

"So how does it feel to be at _my _mercy?" Sanji nearly whispered, wasting no time in wrapping his fingers around Zoro, and letting his tongue roll out for a long sampling lick. 

"What did I tell you before, about talking?" Zoro's voice was something heavy and dulcet, nowhere near impatient just yet. He was enjoying it. Simply knowing that, Sanji felt vindicated. 

"What, that you can't do it?" Before there came a snappy retort, Sanji threw his inhibitions to the wind, opened his mouth, and took the head of Zoro's cock between his lips. 

Zoro's hips pushed up from the wall, arching desperately toward Sanji's mouth, as he let out a long, tortured whimper barely loud enough to hear. Sanji waited, knowing he didn't have the time to savor the moment, but tempting fate nonetheless. 

It boggled his mind; why, not even a week ago, he had been anything but willing to consider himself being used. Bent over the table and fucked like a whore, he had wept at the image of his own humiliation. But now, he was humbling himself, not just willing but eager, not just eager but insistent, as he found himself on his knees. He rolled his tongue slowly around the firm, rounded tip, tasting the strangest taste and enjoying the strangest feeling.

The fingers in his hair were tightening. Zoro's hands were trembling with haste, and they were pushing now, pushing against the back of Sanji's head, forcing his mouth wider, threatening him once again with the exhilarating unknown. 

_Yes, _Sanji thought, not letting his fear push more insistent to the forefront of his mind, _this is exactly what _

_I was talking about..._

He panted hard through his nose, as Zoro's hands guided him into a firm, efficient rhythm. Within moments he didn't need Zoro to set the pace anymore, silently grateful that his lover was considerate enough to let him take over again. His lips were enchanted by the new, beautiful texture, the way Zoro's cock twitched at the back of his mouth, pleadingly toward the tightness of his throat. He even loved the way Zoro's fingers were digging into his scalp, hard enough to leave marks, barely holding back from pulling out his hair in enthusiasm.

_It feels right, _he repeated in his own mind, even as Zoro began to manage his name in small, reluctant little bursts of breath, _I want this....I want this so badly....and I want it again and again..._

He nearly lost his senses for a moment, stumbling as Zoro suddenly jerked him forward. Sanji's throat objected in a momentary spasm as Zoro rammed himself deep into his mouth, an uncharacteristic whine signaling the onset of his orgasm. 

Fighting for a calming breath, he couldn't even bring himself to move as Zoro came inside of his mouth, warming his throat with his release, and again gasping Sanji's name. For a tense moment, he felt panicked, coughing as Zoro withdrew, pulling back as the hands on his head went lax. Sanji lifted two fingers to his mouth, touching the little rivulets of hot liquid dripping from the corners of his lips. 

He knew Zoro was watching, but he knew that he was too wise to say anything just yet. 

For shock effect or for proof of his comfort, as a little 'fuck-you' to the lover who was still his fiercest rival -- or maybe just because he wanted to – he licked up the final traces, wiped his mouth clean, and looked up at Zoro with an expression of smug accomplishment. 

A grin started without warning and spread in an instant before he spoke. "Did you like that?" He asked forcibly, amazed at the unwonted look on Zoro's face. Even in the silence of sleep or in the depths of injurious pain, he had never seen such a fragile, vulnerable expression from the swordsman. 

He looked absolutely beautiful. Any verbal sparring that Sanji wanted to engage in during their afterglow became moot. He found himself incapable of an unkind thought toward Zoro at that moment. 

"Yes." Came his reply at last, a bare articulation on a heavy, satisfied breath. 

Though unsure what made him remain silent and reverent of the moment, much less what made him remain in the subservient kneel he had almost grown to enjoy. It was quiet but for the gentle sound of their breathing, and the steady swell and crash of the tide leading them to the shores of Betoni Island.

With gentle, swift hands, Sanji redressed him, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric as he tucked the stretchy fabric back into place. He was still acquainting himself with the bitter, stodgy taste in his mouth, convinced somehow that he loved it, even if he was unable to completely understand why. His fingers lingered below Zoro's waist, running softly over his thighs, bringing a smile to his face as he skimmed the wetness he had left behind. 

"We'd better get back out there." Zoro surprised him, his voice robust yet calm, tethered to the undeniable stillness of the moment. 

"Yeah." Sanji glanced up, and steadied his hands on Zoro's hips as he rose to his feet. Not wanting to let go, and unwilling to take the first step either, he stood still, glancing quietly at movement of Zoro's chest as he breathed. The rhythm somehow matched the sound of the waves outside. Hypnotized, Sanji was powerless to end the silence. 

Unexpectedly, he felt Zoro's arms encircle him, drawing him in for a quick, powerful, but obviously placating hug. "I'm serious. They'll be needing us."

"I know," Sanji replied sharply, his voice suddenly eight years old again and not wanting to obey his bedtime, "everything's just...so nice right now..." 

"Hey," pushing two fingers beneath his sharp chin, Zoro lifted Sanji's face until their eyes met. He was smiling, subtly, but just enough to be noticed, "we'll have time for that, soon, right? You're so impatient." 

He pushed forward and kissed Sanji's lips gently.

"Nnnnn," Sanji moaned in reluctance, his lips pouting as Zoro pulled back from the kiss, "why do you always have to be so sexy at the worst times?" 

Not that it took much, but he could tell that Zoro was flattered. "Instinct." He leaned forward and pursed his lips lightly against the top of Sanji's ear. The move sent a tremor through Sanji's body, but he was beginning to build up more of a defense to such deliberate torment. 

He shoved him away with a triumphant chuckle, wagging his finger as he glided toward the door. "You're good...you're very good. Just wait. I'll have you squirming soon, too." 

Zoro caught him from behind on his way out the door, and they walked together, Sanji glad to be so spontaneously embraced. "Mmm-hmmm, that was a threat, wasn't it?" 

"Damn right." 

"Hmmmm." Zoro broke away, his bearing and tone almost instantaneously changing as they set foot on the sun-soaked deck once again. Sanji was shocked at how close the shore of Betoni Island suddenly seemed, so shocked in fact he didn't even give the customary pout when Zoro slipped away. 

Sighing in contentment, listening to the seagulls and their incessant squawking as they approached land, he rested a cigarette between his lips. The _Going Merry _drifted lazily into the canal, and suddenly a canopy of trees was shielding them, casting dancing shadows everywhere, as they were surrounded by the fragrance and thickness of the rainforest. 

All he could think of, leaning against the railing and gazing into the kaleidoscope of bright, verdant nature, was what it felt like to make love on the wet grass. How rain would feel on his naked body. 

Whether Zoro might finally be able to say he loved him, too.  

He was pleased when Luffy gave the order to "Drop Anchor!," and might have admitted to the excitement building inside. 

But not quite. 

~*~*~

Nami was droning on about something concerning the unusual tropical climate of the island, a bit of meteorological mumbo-jumbo combined with several mentions of the Grand Line's proximity, but for once Sanji wasn't listening, enraptured by her every word. 

Something about the way Zoro was carrying the usual katana on his hip....somehow it seemed slinkier than usual-even with only one sword remaining, it slung a little lower than Sanji remembered. He was practically shaking his ass as he walked ahead, purposefully at the head of the pack, by Luffy's side. Zoro's ass, focusing his attention even when he tried to listen to Nami's words. 

Sanji forced himself to keep his hands in his pockets, hunch a little lower, and resist every strangely compelling urge to reach forward and slap it. 

He didn't realize he was scowling until Nami pointed it out with a firm poke to his shoulder. "...that means you'll have a great time stocking our provisions." 

It was like a bucket of cold water poured on his head – he snapped to attention and grinned over at Nami, raising his eyebrows in what even _he _subconsciously considered a peculiar way. "Ah? What was that, Nami-san?" 

Nami's smile was telltale, but he could still tell she wasn't pleased at having been ignored. "I was just saying that the untouched wilderness has bred some strange flora and fauna. Several varieties of fish, and one berry in particular, are indigenous to this island." 

His face lit up, genuinely intrigued by the prospect. "How do you know all these things, huh?" He gawked in breathless admiration. 

A smug smile on her gorgeous face, she shrugged. "What can I say, I like doing research. Most things just stick." 

They were at least a mile into the jungle, walking down an obviously traveled path, before the first mentions of setting up camp were heard. Of course, the rallying cry was Luffy with his expected "I'm hungry!"

"So I guess most everyone who visits here just cuts through this path?" Zoro pushed at some of the overgrowth on one side of the trail with the white sheath of his katana. "Seems boring." 

"Right!" Luffy piped up immediately, "why don't we see what's around the rest of the island?" 

Nami looked a bit flustered, like a school-marm intent on keeping her students in line. "But....the path leads to a lake...and a small beach....it's perfect place to camp, and there's fresh water!" 

"My vote is for the lake!" Ussop expectedly agreed. Nami seemed pleased with his compliance, "we're less likely to get eaten."

"Really, our main concern should be snakes and insects," Nami explained further, as Luffy and Zoro continued to peer into the brush as if searching for a reason to break away, "the rainforest isn't big on man-eating beasts." 

Ussop didn't seem relieved by her words, but no one in their right mind would have doubted Nami when she sounded so confident. Sanji was still gazing at her, vicariously enjoying her moment of leadership, when he felt Zoro's hand clamp unmistakably on his shoulder. 

"Are you afraid of spiders?" He asked gruffly. 

"Not really," Sanji shrugged, not particularly interested in the talk of danger when they were supposed to be on vacation, "but I don't much care for them, either." 

"Then don't move." 

Before he could even question what was going on, he heard the steel swish of Zoro's sword, followed by a firm "thwacking" sound, the sort of sound a cleaver made when it sliced through a honeydew. 

Two halves of something bigger than his head, with eight legs, each longer than his arm, fell to the ground. 

Knees knocking toward each other, he suddenly felt the irrepressible need to piss his pants. 

"That's two you owe me." Zoro whispered at a volume the others couldn't hear while they nursed their respective reactions to the giant arachnid. 

"Oh, I'll make it up to you," Sanji found the presence of mind to reply, stepping deftly away from the twitching remains of the dismembered insect, "trust me." 

While Luffy cooed in wonderment over the size of the thing, Nami urged the others down the path, which Ussop was already beating with feet flying. "We can't hang around!" She warned them pleadingly, "let's just go set up camp!" 

"I'll second that." Zoro mumbled, flashing Sanji the most subtle of smug smiles before he yanked up Luffy by the collar and proceeded on his way. 

~*~*~

They managed to start a bonfire on the shore of the beautiful lake, making camp lazily as the evening drew to darkness. As Nami kept firm watch on Luffy, who continued to beg for someone to go into the wilderness with him, Ussop enjoyed the challenge of picking every melon from the tall trees that encircled the lake. Though best bets projected that half of the fruit would be eaten by Luffy before it even saw the ship, Sanji was pleased that a few fresh provisions would come from the stopover. 

The last ounces of rum swirled in the bottle that Zoro offered him. "Drink." 

"I told you, that stuff makes me cranky." Sanji held up one hand and refused as politely as he could. 

Zoro shrugged indifferently and polished off the bottle on his own, letting out a pleasant sigh after he did. They were perched atop a bluff overlooking the rest of the camp, a strange clearing that had obviously seen its share of inhabitants before. All around the lake there seemed to be little cubby holes and safe spots where travelers, most likely pirates as well, had taken it upon themselves to set up temporary housekeeping. The clearing on the bluff was perfect for lookout, isolation, and privacy all at once. Only one steep climb led to their precipice, and Sanji was confident that Nami had spread the word to leave the lookout duties to them. Undisturbed, they watched the bonfire light up the night, watched Nami and Luffy dance like fools and sing nonsense songs around the flames, watched Ussop paint strange, beautiful designs on them like some sort of tribal ritual. It looked like fun. But when he moved his hand, touched Zoro's, and didn't feel the swordsman yank it away immediately, Sanji knew he wouldn't have traded places for the world. 

"Hey." He spoke up, smiling down at Nami as she balanced precariously on Luffy's shoulders.

"Mmm?" 

"They make a cute couple, don't they?" He sighed. 

"Who, Nami and Luffy?" Zoro didn't sound the least bit shocked by the suggestion.

"I trust her with him." He found his voice naturally happy, naturally content with things the way they seemed to be working out. 

"Well that's all well and good, but I don't think romance is one of Luffy's primary brain functions," Zoro expressed his doubts as plainly as he knew how, peering into the empty rum bottle as if some modicum of liquor might just be hiding. 

"Well isn't that what you said about yourself? That's what everyone thinks about you." Sanji turned to him, puffing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. 

"That's still true."

"Hey." Sanji snapped suddenly, removing the cigarette from his mouth and leaning toward Zoro slightly. He lifted one hand and stretched a finger out, beckoning the swordsman like a servant.

It was an unexpected kiss, but even more unexpected to Sanji was the fact that Zoro knew exactly what he had been requesting. Their lips fit together smoothly, the taste of rum and the taste of tobacco somehow mingling and becoming something oddly perfect. Though Sanji knew he wasn't obligated to pull away from the kiss, he did anyway. It was simply that freedom, the freedom to do it again, and not to rush off until the next opportunity, that exhilarated him. The chance to look Zoro in the eye after they kissed, enjoy the mildly pleasant look on his usually stoic face, study the effect of the tingle his lips left behind. 

"Fucking liar." He finally scoffed, smirking and dragging on his cigarette once more. 

" 'm not a liar." Zoro mumbled, almost like he was pouting. 

"No one kisses like that when they're not the romantic type. You only kiss like that when you want a little bit of perfection and stillness. You're looking for the moment. You're not just gunning for a fuck. That's the difference between knowing romance and only knowing your primal instincts."

"Does it change the situation that I'm absolutely sure I'll get to fuck you tonight, anyway?" 

"NO," Sanji replied firmly, flabbergasted that his argument was falling on such staunchly deaf ears, "see, this is why you're just strange." 

"So what if I admit it? What if I say 'okay, fine, I can take a stab a romance' – no pun intended – I don't win a trophy or change my life or anything. So why change my perceptions?" He leaned onto his back, folding his hands behind his head as usual. Sanji glanced down after him, and puffed thoughtfully. 

"Because it would make me feel better." He answered, quite truthfully though he kept his tone as non-confrontational as possible.

"Psheh," Zoro lifted one eyebrow, "if I make you feel good, it won't be in the emotional sense." 

"See, and that's what I love about you. You're so delightfully disdainful!" Sanji exclaimed mockingly, and fell onto Zoro's chest with a lazy slump. For effect, he added, "lose your virginity and suddenly you think you're a sex god, is that it?"

"I don't need to defend myself for you, as I recall you nearly chewed a hole through my do-rag trying to hold back your screams." 

"Perhaps that was because you were fucking me like a freight train." 

"Oh, I didn't hear any complaints at the time!" 

"I WAS GAGGED." 

"And what complaints might you have WANTED to voice, I'm dying to know?" 

"Okay," Sanji propped himself up against Zoro's chest and stared at him as he counted off on his fingers, "1 - your dick is not a sword. You do not need to use it like one. There is such a thing as slow, sensual love-making, and I intend to introduce you to it. 2 – I'd really appreciate it if you'd touch me once in a while." 

"I made you come." Zoro whined in his own defense. 

"Oh, yeah, that didn't take much, did it? Kuso, it was like being reamed by a machine. I mean, your hands never moved! You could have touched my back, my legs, my hair, too! Make it a little more personable." 

"I spanked you." 

Sanji was momentarily speechless, jarred by the memory and Zoro's self-important smirk at once. "Okay, yes, that was nice. You're allowed to keep that. But that's not my point! You understand where I'm coming from!" 

"You're such a woman." 

"YOU WOULDN'T KNOW!" Sanji practically yelled in indignation, his annoyance only fueled by Zoro's outward carelessness toward the topic. However, the moment of boiling frustration seemed to alleviate some of Zoro's nonchalance, making way for a sudden raucous guffaw from the swordsman. 

"I'm kidding," He wrapped one arm around Sanji's neck, and pulled him down to his shoulder. Sanji let out an affronted snort, unwilling to accept his apology so quickly, "we'll work on the romance thing, okay? You're gonna compromise yourself, so I guess I will, too." 

"And I still get to sleep with women." 

"No, you still get to _fuck _women. You only sleep with _me._" 

Sanji turned his face to Zoro slowly, and lifted a hand to his cheek. "Thanks so much for proving my point," he cooed, undeniably warmed by Zoro's unusual expression of devotion, "that was almost sweet." 

A glaze of fear swept over Zoro's eyes, and he stammered to explain himself. "Well, I mean....for you that's as natural as Luffy eating! It's just...you know, I wouldn't ask you to give that up, just—"  
 

"Mmmm?" 

"You're making this so difficult." 

"Oh, don't worry, I know exactly what you want to say, I just want to hear you say it." 

"Just don't fall in love with anyone else, I'm warning you," Zoro mumbled, trying to sound as gruff and manly as possible, "or I'll cut your dick off." 

Sanji's fear was understandably piqued. "You wouldn't dare." 

"Well, it's getting to the point where I'm not even sure that it exists." He snapped in a hushed whisper. Their voices had dropped to an intimate softness, as Zoro cradled Sanji's head against his shoulder.

"Well, I'm not exactly stopping you right now." 

"Right now I'm tired." 

"You're always tired." Sanji whispered with a smile, but his eyes, too, were already closing. 

For three days they were scheduled to remain on Betoni Island. In that time, Sanji figured as he fell into an inescapable slumber, he was pleased to at least have the luxury of falling asleep wrapped in Zoro's arms, under the stars, while the rest of the crew continued their own festivities below. In the jungle around them, thunder broke and rain fell intermittently.


	6. Chapter Six

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter Six

Who was this beautiful creature in his dream? The newest figment of his slumbering mind, clear as every other, more gorgeous than the last. Long legs and full hips, narrow waist beneath a pair of round, firm breasts. She was resting back on a bed of mahogany curls, the hair cascading around her body like a sumptuous blanket, and she was smiling. 

When she opened her mouth, he noticed the pinkish-orange tint of her lips, the subtle spray of freckles beneath her garden-green eyes. She was speaking a language he didn't understand, but her intent was clear, her voice beguiling and coaxing him forward. 

In a flash of dream-time that seemed like an instant, he was making love to her, slowly and gently.  Her body hummed with excitement beneath him, this exotic and decadently beautiful woman who even made his name seem foreign as she screamed it into his ear. 

He seemed unfazed as an arm wrapped around his waist, and pulled him away, away from the beautiful mirage who only faded into never-having-been. He was still flushed, and pink-cheeked, and terrifically aroused, as he found himself pulled into a familiar lap, a familiar embrace, surrounded by a familiar scent. 

"Zoro..." he whispered, in his dream, a small jostle of his brain making the vision seem a little more real, a little more focused. Zoro's chin rested on his shoulder, and silently he smiled, reaching around to stroke Sanji's erection.

He relaxed completely into the touch, stifling a little cry. A few more flashes, a few more blinks into dark, rich reality, and he realized that he was awake. 

His dream-world fading into a waking vision, bathed in starlight on the grassy bluff of the beach, the night still and soft and perfect all around him. Zoro spooned him from behind. And his hands were, indeed, rubbing an anxious circle around his groin. 

"Up?" Zoro asked. Sanji realized he must have stirred rather noticeably. He waited a few moments, amazed at the atmosphere surrounding him, the fresh, dewy smell of the jungle's night-rain filling his nostrils. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he felt Zoro's fingers slide over the lurch of his hipbone. 

"Yeah," he replied smoothly, trying not to sound as nervous as he suddenly found himself, "how long have you been touching me?"

Zoro chuckled evilly, and sighed as he tried to remember. "Well, to tell you the truth I only woke up a few minutes ago, myself. I guess...it seemed right to seize the moment." 

"Your sleep patterns are so odd." Sanji rolled his eyes, though he felt his skin quivering from the slight tickle of Zoro's fingers over the flat front of his pants. 

"Everyone else is asleep," he ignored the good-natured dig, and went about the suggestion as best he could, "and I really think it's time we tried a little of this slow and sensuous love-making you're so on about." 

He realized with a gulp of amazement that Zoro wasn't simply touching him, teasing him, coaxing him to hardness, but he was actually _playing _with him. His hand would cup Sanji's crotch, squeeze lightly, brush over the area, and then wander away for a moment, returning to mold the hardening bulge to his liking, arranging it beneath the fabric as he sighed contentedly next to his ear. 

"You're tense again," When Zoro leaned closer, pulled him tighter, Sanji's voice trembled, and he cried out despite himself, "I don't have to give you another massage, do I?" 

"That would....be nice." Sanji stammered, closing his eyes. His pants fit so loosely these days; he had been losing weight since leaving the Baratie, and it was easy for Zoro to slide his waistband over his hips, unaided, as if the cotton polyester blend was just a towel blocking the view. 

He slid Sanji's pants all he way to his knees, smoothing his hot hands over the skin of his well-toned thighs. He even offered a little mumble of pleasant surprise. "You look so different from this angle." His every word shot jolts of electricity through Sanji's body, warming him, cooling him, and then starting the tingling wave all over again. When his broad fingers found purchase against the little flat of stomach over Sanji's groin, he sucked in a breath, biting his lip to keep from crying out. "I think I'll start the massage...here." 

Zoro's fingers danced through the soft patch of blonde hair and pushed firmly just above the base of Sanji's cock. His blood rushed there, throbbed there, and for that moment he felt harder and tighter than he ever remembered. He cried out, letting his mouth drop open, and reached back to grab Zoro's head. There wasn't much to hold on to – the tiny spikes of hair slipped right through his fingers. Finally he dropped his clammy palm to Zoro's neck, holding there tightly, gasping and moaning as his body dictated. 

Still, Zoro was simply playing with him. His hands examined Sanji like a prize, running over every inch, with every finger, holding him and squeezing him. "What are you doing?" Sanji panted, half-annoyed, but mostly just trying to keep from passing out from the tension. 

"I'm not sure," Zoro answered quite truthfully, his tone quite indicative that Sanji should let him continue whatever he was up to, "I just like it, is all." 

"Fuck," Sanji exhaled sharply, panting into his own shoulder as Zoro's curious fingers pressed into the weeping crease at the tip of his cock, "you act like you've never seen one before." 

"Well, not someone else's," Zoro snapped, and spread the emerging wetness of Sanji's pre-come with his fingers, "I really like it, though." 

"Obviously." he labored his breath, struggling to keep his brain on task. No one else had ever touched him this way, so meticulous and appraising. It brought back memories that he felt almost coy to be sharing in Zoro's presence. His own fumbling midnight fingers, learning the wonders of his own body, petrified that he might be discovered as he taught himself how to come in absolute stillness, absolute silence, only his fingers moving with burning intensity beneath the covers as he curled toward the wall on his side.

He felt exposed, vulnerable, and weaker now that Zoro had quite unexpectedly broken into such intimate territory. The change slowed his breath, quickened his heartbeat, and weighted his eyelids, even when Zoro's ministrations continued on their lazy, painstaking way. 

Zoro's breath still smelled of rum, as it made little gusts over Sanji's shoulder, where his chin still rested. "I've never watched anyone come. Not like this." Zoro admitted, though it was hardly a confession at all to Sanji's ears. 

"That's....not a surprise, Zoro." He replied flatly. 

"Not even myself," and suddenly Sanji knew just what he was meaning, "I don't really....do that. It just clouds my mind, distracts me. If I do, it's always quick, private, eyes closed, just to cleanse my thoughts. But....I've always wondered..."

His grip tightened in a firm, breathtaking hold around Sanji's shaft, and his hand pumped one quick, deliberate time. Sanji's breath caught and he whimpered loudly, digging his fingers into the muscle of Zoro's neck.

"You have something beautiful here," he whispered into Sanji's ear, as his hand began to stroke steadily, building a slow, wonderful rhythm, "I want to watch you come."

Sanji could hardly breathe, and certainly wasn't going to risk speaking. 

"You don't have to be nervous," Zoro added, his voice a little different, almost lonely from the silence, "come on, be a smartass like you always are." 

"Who said I'm nervous?" Sanji, cheeks blood red and eyes fluttering nearly closed with every breath, found himself gasping. 

"Hn," Zoro chuckled, clenching his fingers tighter, distributing that jarring, swelling rush of feeling back and forth through his cock, which was quickly becoming the center of his consciousness, "that's more like it. Talk to me." 

"You...wouldn't talk to me...why...should I....?" He panted, and suddenly tried to splay forward, throwing one arm out and thrashing a little in Zoro's arms. The pleasure and pressure were starting to mount in intensity, and his body was reacting accordingly.

But Zoro calmly stopped him, slipping his other arm around Sanji's chest, pulling him in tightly. The mass of his flawless body started absorbing the shockwaves as they shook the smaller man, and Zoro even moaned a bit as he felt them, felt Sanji's abdomen quiver against his arm, felt his hands shaking as he clawed for a place to grip. Sanji gritted his teeth, whined deep in his throat. 

When his legs began to shudder, Zoro wrapped one of his own around him, holding him tightly, their bodies practically molding together and becoming one at a fleeting glance. But still Sanji felt Zoro staring over his shoulder, watching his cock drip, feeling it lurch in his fist, knowing, instinctively knowing, exactly what he was doing. 

"Say it?" Zoro asked simply, somewhere between a command and a humble request. Sanji was too disoriented to figure things out for himself. 

"What?" His voice dragged over the word, withdrawn and fragile, knowing that at any moment, with the slightest reinforcement of the pleasure he was feeling, his orgasm threatened to hit. He didn't want to be unprepared when it did. 

"Tell me when you come," he offered as an explanation, not feeling the need to say anything else. His hand sped up, and he leaned in to wipe a careless kiss across Sanji's cheek. 

"When I.....oh...." he moaned, his back trying to arch as a pulling sensation started to build in his hips. He only pressed himself harder into Zoro's body, feeling every fold of fabric between them until his muscles relaxed, and immediately he felt it again, stronger, more definite, "when I come...ohh...that's....I'm...."

Sanji, though blank-minded and devoid of any rational emotion that could hold a candle to his desire, managed to turn his head back toward Zoro and whine, eyes clenched tightly shut. "...coming..." 

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough, and his body took over from there. For the first time since he was a bashful boy fondling himself in the darkness, he came in near-silence, not a sound escaping his lips. Only his breath, syncopated and shuddering, falling back against Zoro, mingling with the familiar sweet scent of his lover's lips as they strained toward his, wanting to kiss him but unable to look away. 

Though his eyes were closed Sanji knew what Zoro was seeing. He was usually quite fond of watching it himself, feeling the raw animal power that seized him whenever he came on something, anything, even lonely nothing. He wondered very clearly what Zoro was thinking, wondered with a twinge of trans-orgasmic arrogance if he was silently worshipping his cock. 

It wasn't something he was very secretive about, of course. Isolated orphans like himself rarely made themselves so available to the pleasures of the flesh without something to back it up. From his earliest months of adolescence Sanji had known, deep down, intrinsically, that he was gifted, gifted in talent as well as in body. He knew how to weave the webs of sexual decadence, knew exactly what to do with the thing between his legs, that won him more than his fair share of admirers. On particularly lonely, bar-crawling nights, it became the bait he couldn't wait to offer, slipping a hand beneath a cascade of long black hair to lean forward and whisper to some drunken stranger that he had a huge dick. Very few women could resist, he came to find, and he couldn't remember one who had ever been disappointed. 

But here was Zoro, moaning deeply, thoughtfully, pumping him dry and simply witnessing, who had him feeling different. Zoro wasn't scared of him, wasn't intimidated by his gender, worried that at the drop of a hat he might turn into the sort of lustful paragon of manhood who stole what he wanted, didn't ask questions, and took pains to neglect being gentle. No, Zoro was quite the opposite of all that. The ego swell that Sanji usually felt in his position grew stronger, knowing that Zoro was admiring him by choice, not simply out of some jaded obligation. 

It was quite a welcome change, to know that he was with someone who was eager to learn, eager to enjoy, even if he hesitated to admit it. 

Sanji smirked and finally let out a groan as Zoro's hand slipped off of the softening muscle. "Your instinct is going to get you in trouble one of these days." He growled sweetly, reaching into his breast pocket for the obligatory cigarette. 

A flash of light went up momentarily. A dancing spire of smoke drifted slowly after it. Sanji sucked back deeply on the cigarette, satisfied, not knowing anything else to say.

After several moments, when Zoro still had not responded, he turned his head halfway, and snapped his fingers lightly. "Hey." 

"Oi, oi, I'm all right. Just being quiet, nothing wrong with that." 

Sanji nodded, and felt the usual creep of naughtiness tip-tap at his brain. "So you liked that?" He asked plainly, flicking a bit of ash into the grass and sand. The smells all around him were beginning to melt into one another; rain and salt air, nature and sweet-musky mold, Zoro's sweat and the rum on his breath, cigarette smoke and come. Everything was just a part of the tapestry now, and Sanji ceased to worry about differentiating.

"A lot." Zoro grunted, shifting a little bit until he was clutching Sanji looser than before, allowing them both a bit of room to spread out, relax. Sanji still kept himself close to the warmth of his lover's body, pressing his ass deliberately into the crook of Zoro's hips, delighting in the fresh, unexpectedly marvelous feeling of being the one held from behind. 

"Never had a hand-job that intense. You're really something else." 

"Sanji..." 

That tone made his eyes wrench wide open, made his mouth go dry for some reason. If Zoro didn't sound thoughtful, a little bit sad, then Sanji didn't know what else ever had. 

"Uh-huh." 

"I never....really knew this about myself." 

"Hm." Somehow he already knew what Zoro was preparing to confess. He didn't feel any particular need to be verbose. 

"I've never even wanted to look at a woman...the way I just looked at you." He punctuated the sentence with a touch of his hand to Sanji's bare hip, unmoving, vulnerable. For a terrifying moment, Sanji had no idea what to do, and was absolutely dumbstruck by the bleakness in Zoro's voice. 

"Oi, Zoro...." he finally whispered, unable to articulate the most basic comforting words. 

"Things make a little more sense now. But, I guess...." he paused, and Sanji heard a more characteristic, heavy, restless breath escape and break against the back of his neck. It sent a chill down his spine, which he felt almost betrayed the somber moment, "I guess, just...thank you." 

A meaningful silence said more than any 'you're welcome' Sanji could have mustered, had his mind been up to the task. Instead he was overwhelmed, head resting in the soft grass as Zoro's fingers skittered lazily in the little tuft of hair beneath his naval.

At last, Sanji smiled, and turned his head back again, beckoning Zoro silently for a kiss, even as a cloud of smoke drifted softly from his lips. "Hey." He almost whispered. 

Zoro moved in gently and kissed him over his shoulder, propping up slightly to offer Sanji all the breathtaking, hard, and somehow romantic impact their kisses had come to afford. He felt the burning cigarette between his fingers grow lighter, the ash fading out and falling against his jacket as the kiss went on longer and longer. Still, they didn't shift, they didn't budge, they made no effort to impose anything different. 

A drop of rain hit Sanji's forehead. Then another, on his thigh. 

Within moments a fresh, jungle-scented rain was falling, soaking them with thin, light drops that fell in sheets from the dark, calming sky. 

Water leaked in between their lips as they smiled and pulled apart. Thunder broke, but somewhere distant, somewhere over the water. Their smiles had turned to boyish grins of excitement. "Should we take shelter?" Zoro wondered out loud. 

"Make love to me." Was Sanji's only response, light and airy, absolutely enchanted by the perfection of the way the cosmos was aligning, the climactic realization of his fantasies. He reached up and touched Zoro's cheek with his hand, wiping the water away only to see it replaced within instants. 

Droplets clung to his eyelashes, and he let his lids hang heavy as he smiled a drowsy, intimate smile at Zoro. 

Zoro kissed him again. His lips felt brilliant in the rain, like an all new kiss Sanji had never had before. He tasted it again, enjoying the freshness, the wetness, the remarkable slickness of their mouths moving together. Before they even parted, he felt Zoro's hands at his waist, rubbing up the side of his body, coaxing at the sopping wet jacket and shirt he was wearing. 

Intensely hoping, but secretly knowing, that the others would not feel the need to seek them out any time soon, they slowly and leisurely undressed. Sanji knew his shivers were not entirely from the balmy cold of the jungle rain, as Zoro pulled him back, and he found himself pressed breathlessly against the full length of his lover's strong, wet, and very naked body. It took a moment for Sanji to orient himself, to process the hard curves and glorious topography of Zoro's form. Past the smooth patina the rain had left between them, he could feel everything that had always invaded his fantasies without warning before, from the gentle ripples of Zoro's abdomen breathing against his back, to the unmistakable hardness that pressed just beneath his ass. 

He let out a long, meditative sigh, and closed his eyes. Zoro's fingers, the ones that weren't circled around his waist, holding him tightly, touched his hair. He combed through the soaking blonde mess, parting it comfortably, arranging it with unusually wispy strokes from his broad, fumbling fingers. Sanji smiled at the attention, and squirmed hopefully.

On his cue, those fingers moved lower, slicked to glistening by the rain, pressing without pause or hesitation at the no-longer-foreign territory. Sanji gasped regardless, the touch still overwhelming although it was familiar. There wasn't the smell of olive oil, the strain of the gag in his mouth. There wasn't even Zoro hovering unseen somewhere outside of his view and his touch. Zoro was all around him, behind him, filling his every sense as he breathed into Sanji's ear and slid his fingers smoothly into his body. 

He let go of Sanji's waist, and used the hand to lift one of his legs. The difference made by that simple change in position wrenched Sanji's eyes open, made him cry out loud, as Zoro smirked audibly behind his ear. 

"I want to live up to our compromise," he leaned in to whisper, his tongue lashing out to lick the rim of Sanji's ear. The wetness was only a brief warmth against the rain's incessant shower, but the heat of Zoro's tongue was suddenly something Sanji wanted to feel all over his body, "so I'll try to pay more attention to you." 

He kissed the back of Sanji's neck, holding his head there as his fingers slid free. They slid between Sanji's legs quickly, gently pressing against his balls and caressing his cock gently.

"Ahh!" Sanji gasped, louder than he ever would have anywhere else, amazed at the rush of freedom he felt at voicing his reactions as simply as the sensations came. 

Zoro smiled and panted hard into his ear, as the length of his erection rocked against Sanji's ass. "Do you want it?" He asked, sinfully teasing and uncharacteristically dramatic. 

Sanji nodded, eyes closed as he whined in response to Zoro's hand, still stroking his cock. He nodded again, harder, and then he felt Zoro's teeth touch his ear. So gentle, yet so powerful – teeth strong enough to maneuver a katana, just barely nipping the edge of his earlobe. He yelped, and felt himself throb into Zoro's hand. The swordsman chuckled. "Is that what you meant? Does talking to you like that really make you feel good?" 

One leg still raised in the air, crooked unmistakably, Sanji nodded again, and managed to find his voice, hoping it would reach Zoro amidst the rain's steady backbeat, "Ask me again." 

"Do you want my cock?" Zoro breathed, a sound Sanji knew would echo forever arousing in his ear. And this time he felt himself clench, unable to wait any longer to cry:

"YES!" He squeezed his shoulders back, practically flattening his top half against Zoro, shrinking into himself and panting like a zealous virgin, "fuck me.....fuck me, please...." 

"Well, as long as I have permission..." Zoro mumbled, and as always Sanji could hear the smile on his lips, even with his eyes closed.

He knew it was too much to ask that Zoro treat him like a blushing bride or a shrinking violet, but somehow simply being so close to him, so completely enrobed by him, felt like enough. If it wasn't angry, discordant sex in some kind of way, Sanji would have doubted it was Zoro at all. 

Sure enough, Zoro tore into him just like before, his entry aided this time by the mind-bending, slick-stickiness of the rain. But somehow, when he heard Sanji's almost painful howl, he managed to pace himself, even mumbling "I'm sorry" into his ear. Sanji's ears warmed with subtle embarrassment. 

"No, it's all right," Sanji replied, gasping between words, lifting his hand to reach back and wind into one of Zoro's, "I like it. I really do. Just...just keep talking to me." 

Though Zoro was already moving inside of him, his rhythm a bit smoother and less forceful than before, Sanji's request left him dumbfounded again. "What about?" 

Sanji was patient. Thankfully he had prepared a bit of a curiosity to spring upon Zoro. "Tell me the first time you knew you wanted me." 

Zoro took several moments to respond, and Sanji knew better than to simply assume he had been distracted. 

"Tell me." He urged him again, gritting his teeth and bracing himself against Zoro's thrusts, which were gaining in speed and strength. He squeezed their slippery fingers together, and licked his lips to taste the wetness on them. For the first time, he opened his mouth to pant, letting the rain trickle in. 

"I was thinking about how you fight," Zoro began, deeply, reluctantly, obviously not the world's best storyteller, and more than a little preoccupied with the sensations of sex, "you're so strong, and yet....you don't....seem that way. You're...well..."

"Ahh!" Sanji convulsed and yelped as Zoro drew a lightning charge from his body, "a weakling?" 

"No, you're beautiful," he admitted quickly, probably hoping Sanji wouldn't notice, "whenever I'd watch you change, catch a glimpse of you naked, I'd get this rush I couldn't explain—you're so....just...." he was at a loss for words again, but the way his hands were suddenly moving slowly, appreciatively, on Sanji's cock suggested everything his words could not express, "like a woman. But so much better. So much better because you're so strong. So willful. So completely independent." 

"That's not true." Sanji gasped immediately. 

"You are too," Zoro shot back like an indignant child, not in the mood to argue when they were both so close to euphoria. The ground began to soften beneath them and the grass made little squeaking sounds as they fucked, "you think I'd let myself do this if you weren't?" 

It was enough reason to convince him, inexplicably. "...and?" 

"Mm?" Their faces were both pinched in concentration, their movements suggesting that one, or both, were achingly close to completion. 

"What did you want from me?" Sanji asked softly, his voice now barely rising above the rain. 

Zoro's voice shifted, thrown ahead into veracity by the sudden rush of pre-orgasmic pleasure, "I wanted to fuck you so bad," he admitted, panting, growling, nearly crying, "I wanted anything, anything at all I could get my hands on, but in the end I always wanted to just fuck you like crazy. To lose control. To let it all out. There are so many things...so many ways I've forced myself to believe I didn't want you, but here you are...just making me remember them..."

Sanji forced himself to be silent, not even the scream out as Zoro's cock pounded incessant sparks of pleasure, clenching and soaring, through his body. He wanted to hear more, if more was to be heard. Nothing would have made him interrupt Zoro at that moment. 

But the rain only fell harder, the drops becoming fatter, heavier, splashing against their bodies where they landed. Any words Zoro may have said would have been drowned out regardless. Sanji considered it a sign, and resolved to only listen to his body from that point. 

They shifted without really knowing it, as Zoro pushed harder against him and Sanji could only relent. By the time he gathered his senses, he found his stomach planted against the soft, soaking grass, and he could feel the weight of Zoro's body on top of him. Their legs tangled in a wonderful way as their bodies slipped against each other in the rain, making Zoro's thrusts more uneven and random.

"Oh fuck yes." Was all Sanji could muster, saving as much breath as the new position allowed him, metering his cries in a way that only seemed to make them louder. Zoro, too, was moaning now, in his usual half-growling, animal sort of way. 

Sanji dug his fingers into the wet soil, as water slid to drip like a faucet from the point of his chin. He arched his back against Zoro and tried to lift his hips after every push would thrust him back into the ground. His cock slid wonderfully against the soft, pliant grass below, and with each motion he felt himself spinning, blanking, focusing on nothing at all. 

When he felt Zoro's lips clutch the skin at the back of his neck, breathing hard, panting kisses against him, every tactic of control failed him at once. He came between his belly and the grass below, shrieking like a schoolgirl, choking on the rain as he felt what may have been tears of pleasure seeping from his clenched eyes. His sobbing, panting, rhythmic cries died out slowly, and when he felt like he was nearly too weak to continue, too numb to be receptive to Zoro's magnificent performance, he felt his lover tighten, heard him stop a rattling moan in his throat. And then Sanji's stomach fluttered, his throat caught a breath as the warmth of Zoro's orgasm filled his body.

He flattened himself against the ground, laid one cheek against the grass. Still spread-eagled beneath Zoro, he waited until the full weight of the swordsman fell on top of him, taking his breath away only for a moment before it felt wonderful, so welcome, better than he would have thought. 

This time, they enjoyed it. They throbbed and recovered in the afterglow, no fears rushing them to speed up the process, no propriety even requiring them to cover themselves after the fact. Their bodies simply molded to each other, as they breathed a conversation of gasping, plaintive breaths punctuated by the occasional stray noise, sometimes a chuckle, sometimes a moan, but very rarely anything concrete and articulate. For the first time Sanji felt the effect their jaunt had wrought upon his muscles, in his back and in his thighs, where he had struggled to force himself back against Zoro's incessant thrusts. The tiny aches were gorgeous reminders, and when he thought of their sex as athletic, competitive, it made him love it even more. 

It took several minutes for the rain to fall softer, soft enough for the two to hear each other, as water-logged and weary as they were. "Sugoi." Sanji finally breathed, now holding his chin up with one wrist. 

Zoro could barely even take a deep breath in response. "I'm exhausted." He managed, holding his lips near Sanji's ear again. 

"Let's go down to the camp." Sanji suggested. 

"Nothing to say?" 

"Yeah, you're damn good." Was all Sanji could provide at that moment, his brain too tired and his body too weak to conjure up anything poetic or priceless. Not that it would have fit their general mood, anyway. 

"Likewise." Zoro muttered, grunting strenuously as he lifted himself off of Sanji's body to stand up. 

On their feet, they kissed, letting their hands travel freely into each others' hair and across each others' slippery skin. They warmed each other with their breath, held their embrace for a few silent, sultry moments, before Zoro glanced over the side of the bluff. "Yeah, let's get dressed and get down there."

"Yeah." 

They only wore their sopping clothes for as long as it took to descend the bluff, find their way to the camp, and slip inside. 

Nami and Luffy appeared to be passed out, side-by-side beneath the sheltering tent. A half-eaten melon still balanced halfway in Luffy's outstretched hand, and Nami's cheeks were pink, happy from drunkenness. Ussop curled up near to her side, clutching an unwashed paintbrush. Upon further inspection, they found a hastily-painted caricature of that night's bonfire, and the three dancing around it. Sanji smiled as he reached down to grab a stray blanket. 

"I still wouldn't have traded." He said softly, knowing that Zoro would understand him.

"Ah," Zoro agreed, already removing his shirt, "me neither." 

They wrapped up in little blanket-cocoons, Sanji squeezing obtrusively between Nami and Ussop, as Zoro sprawled out next to Luffy. Listening to the others gently breathing as they slept, Sanji inhaled the soft fragrance of Nami's hair, and took his final sleepy moments to reflect on how perfect everything seemed. 

For a moment, he thought he heard something moving just outside their tent, but he was too tired, too blissful, too convinced of Nami's assurances that they were completely alone. 

_It's nothing,_ he smiled to himself, and cuddled deeper into his blanket, determined to fall asleep before it dampened too much to be comfortable. 


	7. Chapter Seven

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter Seven

Camping in the wild somehow strangled Sanji's normal need for sleep, forcing him for some unconscious paranoid reason to wake up first. Perhaps it was something the land-locked air did to him, or perhaps it was just a psychological throwback, but whatever it was, he always seemed to wake up fairly early; early enough to start the day far ahead of anyone else, at least. His clothes were still damp when he pulled them on, and he sighed at his sudden aversion to how uncomfortable they felt. He resolved to spend most of the day naked or submerged if he had to, just to sun-dry his clothes to the point where they didn't stick to his body and chaff his skin. Pulling a face, he tugged the cuffs of his pants into mid-calf rolls. He simply didn't want to handle the wet fabric flapping against his ankles as he walked.

The first rays of sunlight were peeking through the flaps of the tent, and he smiled at the day's possibilities. First, of course, he was starving. Maybe they had been absent the evening before, but he and Zoro would be more than forgiven if Luffy and the others woke up to a delicious breakfast at the ready.  

He deftly maneuvered around the sleeping bodies of his nakama, taking a longer glance that usual at Zoro's disheveled, less-than-appealing, but somehow heartwarming face. He lifted the flap of the tent and ducked into the sunshine, a cigarette between his fingers before he was even two feet outside. 

He cupped his hands and struck a match, glancing over at the canopy of fog hanging just above the surface of the lake. It was peaceful, beautiful, but for some reason he wasn't so thrilled by the view. Something was making his skin crawl, disturbing everything about the atmosphere. Suddenly he felt like Nami, with her preternatural senses and her way of ruining the most splendid moments.   

A sneer stretched his lips, and he looked around, finding immediately what had tickled his discomfort. 

"So you're what I heard last night." Sanji said calmly, smoke billowing out through his nose as he tried to fight off the instincts of fear and defense in his mind. 

The stranger crouched next to their camp looked harmless enough, at a distance – but then, Sanji remembered, so did most of his own crew. Small stature, unassuming dress, armed only with a longsword balanced across the top of his knees. His glare, though, his presence, was enough to warn Sanji with daunting clarity that this was no simple islander. 

"I was beginning to think no one would notice, so I decided to make my presence clear." The intruder spoke, suddenly rising to his full height. He held the sheathed sword to his side, and thrusted it jauntily from his hip like a dandy with a walking stick. Sanji was impressed with his style, though not particularly taken by his obvious arrogance.

With a coolness that betrayed his racing thoughts, he plucked the cigarette from between his lips and blew an impromptu series of smoke rings in the stranger's direction. "You from around here?" 

As if his appearance suggested that he wasn't. Though his dark hair was unevenly cut just below his ears, obviously a self-inflicted barber job, the stranger managed to retain the flair of a castaway, a willing survivor, one of those rugged wilderness types that Sanji had never understood nor admired. 

He smirked and shook his head, glancing down at the sandy shore of the lake. "There's a man among your party," he spoke very smoothly, very deliberately, obviously not a native speaker of the language but skilled nonetheless, "I wish to speak to Roronoa Zoro." 

Immediately, Sanji's nostrils flared and his blood pressure soared, though outwardly he still managed to exude some affectation of calm. "What business could you possibly have with Zoro?" 

"I simply noticed this," one of his darkly-tinged, impeccable arms lifted, and Sanji's face blanched as he noticed that the stranger was holding Zoro's only remaining katana, "and thought we might have a few things to discuss." 

Unable to stomach the sudden rage, Sanji clenched his fists, and gnawed on the tip of his cigarette. "What are you doing with that? How did you get it?" 

The stranger scoffed, and lowered his eyes again. He was too cold, too effusively condescending. Sanji despised his type. "First I believe I should introduce myself. My name is Armerind. No surname, no family. Simply Armerind."

"Tsch," Sanji puffed with a growl, "I've never heard of you."

"Oh, I doubt you have," he lowered the white katana and concealed it behind his back once more, "no one has, for about twenty years now. And back then, I was only a child." He smiled with some deeper self-assurance. 

When Sanji didn't respond, Armerind went on. "I've been living on Betoni Island for two decades. Just my luck that your crew would wander into my territory at the very time I decided to wake from my sleep. Proverbially." 

He spoke in prose. Sanji despised that, as well. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

Armerind looked over, locked eyes with him through the loose-hanging curls of his hair, and smirked. "I'm just a swordsman, nothing more. A scholar, perhaps, but that's only secondary. Regardless of my history and my specific reasons, I'm more than interested to meet with Roronoa Zoro. If you would, please, fetch him?"

Sanji's eyes grew wide and he felt suddenly assaulted, his brain reacting to the thinly veiled insult, the demeaning tone in Armerind's voice. "You little shit," he snarled, disposing of his cigarette before moving into an agile crouch. As he thrust forward, aiming his leg at Armerind's ribcage, he heard the other man laugh at his attempt. 

_I hate him, _Sanji knew, and he let the thought cloud his mind. His adrenalin rushed, his kick swept out with full force, but suddenly he felt himself stop, all his ballistic energy focusing on the base of his kneecap, ending with a deafening "crack". The pain was incomparable, and he only glimpsed the sight of Armerind holding the scabbard of his longsword, bracing it like a staff against his leg. Once he saw this, he was already collapsing to the ground. Armerind seemed completely unfettered, as if the attack had been no more intrusive than the attempts of a pesky mosquito. 

_How....how was he so fast? _He thought to himself, grimacing in agony, feeling as if his leg had been severed at the knee. _And why so much pain? I shouldn't be....feeling so much pain..._

"I only sprained the tendons below your kneecap," Armerind mumbled softly, poignantly, as he attached the longsword to a sling around his waist, "it's going to hurt like hell, but there shouldn't be any lasting damage. You're not worth any lasting damage." 

Silently, he stepped over Sanji, who growled beyond his wheezing breath, "Zoro's only going to kill you." 

"He's your lover, isn't he?" Armerind suddenly asked, the question hitting Sanji like a jab to his gullet. Breathless, he glared up at the stranger, cursing him in his mind.  "Ah, I see, so it's an incognito thing. That's all right, you won't have to worry about your nakama hearing us." 

It took a few moments for his brain to process those words, but even when he did, he had to question them. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Last night I took the liberty of drugging them, to ensure an easy audience with Roronoa Zoro. I find it's quite easy to sneak in unnoticed on idiots with a false sense of security. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a hold of you, as well, since you were....otherwise engaged." 

Sanji's face burned with anger, embarrassment, absolute hatred for this man he had barely met. "You've been watching us." 

"I watch everyone who comes to this island," He smiled, and moved to open the tent's flap, "but I've never given anyone the honor of knowing that. Not until now."

Armerind's smile suddenly transformed into a subtle expression of shock, and Sanji noticed him tense considerably. Through the flap of the tent, clutching Armerind's wrist with what seemed to be a deadly tightness, Sanji was relieved to see Zoro's hand. 

"It's about time you woke up." He said, loud enough that Zoro would hear him. His smile still grimaced past the throbbing numbness in his leg, but his spirits rose again toward optimism as Zoro emerged.  

Everything about him seemed bristling and off-kilter, from his horribly wrinkled clothes to his half-waking, snarling expression. Sanji was eager to see what would happen to Armerind, eager enough that he neglected to feel ashamed as he sprawled incapacitated on the ground.  

Armerind's smile was sharp, catlike, the sort of smile Sanji saw on Zoro sometimes, and more often on their most sadistic enemies. He willingly conceded his wrist to Zoro's care, allowing him to hold it firmly as he walked right up to Armerind and snorted in his face. 

"Give it back." He said simply, tonally, like a parent giving a child his first warning. Armerind was his height, perhaps barely an inch shorter, and when Sanji compared them at such close range, the two seemed perfectly matched in overall physique. He was interested to find out just what sort of story was behind this strange islander, what deeper confidence could leave him so forward and vainglorious. 

"Only if you'll use it." Armerind smirked, and clutched the white sheath at his side only tighter. 

Zoro glanced over at Sanji only momentarily, and their eyes showed the same reaction of astonishment. Then, his eyes narrowed and he pinched his eyebrows together with a not-so-subtle show of displeasure. "What the hell are you doing? Get up and kick his ass!" 

The hair on the back of Sanji's neck rose with the hot blood to his head, and he barked right back at Zoro, "I tried! He nearly broke my leg!" And yet, as the usual urge to prove himself stronger prevailed, he winced his way to his feet, and limped only slightly as he balanced himself on one foot. "He knows what he's doing," he admitted ruefully. 

"You're an embarrassment." Zoro scoffed, and looked away with characteristic disdain. Sanji waited too long to fire a comeback, and by the time he even thought of one, which wasn't very good at all, the moment of anger has dissipated.

Armerind's soft chuckle interrupted their quarrel. "Don't worry, I have no intention of harming either of you further, until I discuss the reasons for my most rude introduction. Especially your lover, Zoro, I had no right to hurt him, I know. But he was determined to make our acquaintance a difficult thing to obtain." His wrist still wrenched in Zoro's vise-like grip, his face bowed respectfully and he continued, "Would you please join me for breakfast? My cabin is only a little way from here. Even the invalid, there, should be able to make the trek." 

"Fuck you," spat Zoro, shoving Armerind away like a pest. Then he lurched forward, his hand outstretched and reaching obviously for the katana at Armerind's hip, "and give _this _back!" 

Sanji couldn't tell if it was a second, or less than one. Had the sound actually reached his ears after the motion? Before Zoro's hand could even connect to the katana's handle, Armerind had unsheathed his longsword with a shivering _'shhhhk,'_ and lodged it with absolute stillness between Zoro's thumb and forefinger. 

The quiet that followed said everything. Zoro suddenly had a reason to be careful, and even from his distance Sanji could see a tiny trickle of blood run down his wrist, where the sword had left a barely-there notch on the web of his hand. 

"First we eat," Armerind explained coolly, "then we negotiate a suitable ransom." 

~*~*~

The sound of clinking metal was all around them. 

To say that Armerind's home was unusual was a grave understatement. Sanji was trembling with anxiety even as he sipped the tea their insistent host had prepared, trying not to think that above his head, from the high ceiling of Armerind's small cabin, there were hanging dozens of sword, if not a hundred or more. Every shape, make, and style, some from eras no one remembered any more, some shining brilliant like new. They made a peculiar, nervous wind-chime, swaying into each other with a constant, heavy, musical sound as the breeze drifted in through the open windows. 

They were on the walls, too, everywhere they could fit. The collection seemed impossible for a man no one had heard from in twenty years. They were all stolen, Armerind explained with a smile, discreetly and without notice by pirates and travelers who had come to Betoni Island over time. The challenge of acquiring new pieces for his museum had turned him into a master of stealth, he said, and with age it had become a fun little game. 

Sanji found it difficult to concentrate on his tea, which was strong and bitter, not the sort he enjoyed at all. 

The walk to Armerind's cabin had been arduous for him, as his leg was still screaming in defiance of any movement whatsoever. Zoro had half-heartedly offered to support him halfway, but Sanji had batted his hand away with a gruff refusal. The last thing he wanted from Zoro was pity. He couldn't think of any conditions under which he would accept it. Because he knew the swordsman would have refused it from him. And that was that. 

Mind over matter, he assured himself, gritting his teeth against the pain and trying to wash it away with the scalding hot tea that slid in small, nervous gulps down his throat. 

The cabin was completely ensconced, practically impossible to find if you weren't looking. Cradled inside a thicket of towering cocoa trees, camouflaged by the moss and mold that had overgrown the stone edifice. The entrance itself was blocked by a thick curtain of ivy, which Armerind explained was quite corrosive if handled for very long. They had rushed inside as quickly as possible, then, only to be greeted by the curious armory he kept. 

Only a bookshelf and a bed made the place seemed lived-in. The fire he kept in the center of the one-room cabin, around which they were sitting, appeared to be his only creature comfort. After what he had seen, Sanji was surprised that he even kept a bed. It wouldn't have been shocking at that point to learn that Armerind slept in the treetops with the monkeys, even in the blistering rain. 

Though he knew so little about Armerind, everything he learned made his hatred only grow. Everything about the man seemed strange, obsessive. He kept eyeing Zoro appraisingly, studying the way he moved and listening intently to the way he spoke. It made Sanji want to blind him, slice his ears off if he had a cleaver at his disposal. Possessive, he couldn't say he was, but the store of weapons all around him did its best job of making him fear for their safety, and Armerind's sanity. 

"Coadari Village," he said plainly, and Sanji was suddenly jostled from his thoughts back into the conversation that was taking place without him, "near the Calm Belt, a bit South of here. I was sixteen when I left."

Armerind leaned forward and checked the bubbling pot over the fire as it cooked their breakfast. Sanji wanted to say so many things, but bit his tongue. His temper had already gotten him in trouble that morning, and he was determined not to react again until he knew every fact of the situation. Zoro seemed to be keeping his calm, so once again he resolved to follow that lead. He tried to think about the earful he was destined to get when they were finally alone, rid of Armerind and his strangeness, reunited with the white katana, back on the sea with Luffy and the others. It would be welcome, after the tight, nervous feeling that was seizing him now.  

"To train." Zoro said. His voice suggested that he was echoing something Sanji had missed. 

"Of course," Armerind's arrogance would have been enough to curl Sanji's eyebrow if they weren't already. He found his teacup suddenly empty, and suppressed the belch that wanted to escape. He hoped secretly that they had forgotten about his presence, "among others I found only distraction. I don't want to become stronger to impress someone else, and I don't have some shining ideal of the warrior's code. I just knew, somehow, that this is what I was meant to do." 

It sounded frighteningly simple, and a bit fanatical to Sanji. He glared at Armerind when he wasn't looking, and couldn't see anything about the young man that indicated any crazed dementia. But then, he knew well enough to remember that the most psychotic were often the most seemingly level-headed. 

"Why twenty years?" Zoro seemed downright interested, and it made Sanji even hotter under the collar. He bared his teeth for a moment, wanting to jump up, kick Armerind's head in, and ask Zoro what the hell he was doing. The only facts he cared about were that Armerind had stolen a prized possession, drugged the rest of their crew, and was blackmailing them into seeming to care.

"That's how long it took." Armerind said smoothly, as if the answer had been completely obvious all along. 

With the chiming swords his soundtrack, Armerind went about preparing his bare, unimpressive breakfast. Rather than watch him, Sanji looked up at the bookshelf, and was shocked to find volume after volume of scholarly text. Medical journals, anatomy guides, psychological studies populated his library, the sheer number and variety only aggravating Sanji's distrust, as if anything could have assuaged it at this point. 

"Are you a doctor?" He found himself asking. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He had wanted to disappear, but now things were getting far too curious. Then he remembered what Armerind had said, just after striking him to the ground. _How else could he have known just how he had injured me?_

"Not hardly," Armerind replied quickly, and held out a coconut-shell-turned-wooden-bowl, filled to the sloppy brim with a grotesque stew of roots and dirty vegetables. Sanji's stomach turned just looking at it, but with a wince he took the bowl anyway, "I just find that knowing about the human machine has helped me immensely."

Sanji glanced over at Zoro, who was sipping at the stew calmly. His eyebrows twitched only slightly at Armerind's words. It was easy enough to tell that Zoro was uneducated in such matters, but Sanji had never seen it as a detriment to his skill. As he lowered the bowl, though, and looked over at Armerind, he could see a fog of jealousy clouding the swordsman's eyes. Zoro wiped his wrist over his mouth, and scoffed. 

"But you haven't actually fought anyone for twenty years." He said challengingly. 

Armerind turned his head to Zoro slowly, pausing midway from filling his own bowl. "No, but that's why I choose to begin now." 

Zoro's face relaxed with sudden confidence, but that same pinprick sensation that had gripped him that morning returned to Sanji's mind. For some reason, he knew Zoro was being premature, judging this stranger on his experience alone. 

"Well, then, if you're meaning to duel me, then just say so. I'll just take some of these swords when we're finished. Or, should I say, when you are." He had been eyeing some of the flashier swords on Armerind's walls since they came in, but Sanji was surprised to hear such boastful words so soon. 

"You're proud." Armerind responded very simply, and, unaffected, continued his meal. 

He said nothing more as he ate, and a few seconds passed before Sanji heard Zoro say, "Oi, you should eat." 

"I can't eat this." Sanji hissed, pointing at the stew as if Zoro had somehow looked over it. 

"Don't judge it on how it looks, it's actually not that bad." 

In fact, his stomach was battling ferociously with his palate, forcing him to take Zoro's word on the matter. He hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and in between the hiking and the fighting and the strenuous sex, he had developed quite a searing appetite.

A growl barely made it past his scowl as he lifted the bowl and sipped. 

Remarkably, Zoro was right. It wasn't half bad. Not that he would have given Amerind anything but grief for his presentation. He hoped against his instincts that Armerind knew what he was cooking, given the obviously vast medical knowledge he had, and bit into one of the rather spicy roots. 

"I hope you aren't giving us the same thing you slipped the others," Sanji snorted, "what was it, by the way?" 

"Hokarabi leaf powder. It's a tree that grows here, on the island. A few grams are enough to knock out a full grown man for a day or two. Depending on your sensitivity to tranquilizers, of course," Armerind was a little too forthcoming with his information, and it worried Sanji. He sneered incredulously as he forced himself to swallow the stew, "but I have no reason to do that to either one of you. You're free to do as you please, given my demands." Suddenly, he looked over at Zoro, and took it upon himself to reinstate the topic at hand. "I've heard of you, you know." 

"I supposed." Zoro replied darkly, waiting to live up to whatever Armerind had heard. For at least as long as Sanji had been in his company, it seemed that Zoro's reputation always preceded him.

"I listen to the conversations people have when they come here, and your name comes up quite a bit. Hasn't for a few months now, though. I suppose that's because you've found a crew. Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. How ironic, even if it is charming."

"How did—" Sanji began, knowing he was too far into the conversation to back out now. But Armerind was already interrupting him. 

"This katana you carry, it's quite impressive. They say it's the one you hold like this?" He held up Zoro's sword, and poised it at his mouth. Sanji caught a glimpse of his lover's face blanching as Armerind bit into the tsuka ito that carried so many of his memories. His face was suddenly that of a furious protector, a jealous husband, a man who was watching his precious thing disgraced right before his eyes. Sanji couldn't say he felt for him, particularly, but he could feel the extent of Zoro's anger. 

"Don't you dare touch it like that." Zoro whispered huskily, the tone making Sanji's ears tingle. 

That was the tone. These were the circumstances. 

Something he wanted to protect. 

_"I'm not playing games with you anymore."_

_"You almost got killed."_

Sanji found his mouth hanging open a bit despite the drama happening before his very eyes. For those few seconds every thought was inward, every calculation and explanation suddenly coming together and making sense. He breathed in sharply and turned to look fully at Zoro, watched him with renewed focus and need, listened to the two men play off of each other toward a climax neither was quite sure of. 

"And why? This sword has significance for you? You look at me as if I've murdered your mother." Armerind smiled, and then Sanji looked on in disbelief as the arrogant bastard opened his mouth, and ran his tongue sensually along the smooth-worn handle, eyeing Zoro the entire time. 

Zoro leapt forward, as Sanji expected he would, knocking over the stew pot and practically smothering the fire as he lunged at Armerind. It was rather clear that Armerind _allowed_ him to retrieve the katana, and for that reason Sanji felt compelled to cry out even before anything had happened. 

"Zoro, look out!" 

He knew better than to wait for that half-a-second to pass, this time around. By the time Zoro was on his feet, drawing his sullied sword, Armerind had already pulled his own. They crossed blades for the first time with a sharp, lightning crash of steel-on-steel, and Armerind laughed triumphantly. 

The wind was gone from Sanji's lungs, as he suddenly realized what was happening, what could possibly  come as a consequence. 

"I've waited for twenty years to know that I was good enough to challenge the finest I could find. I had planned at first to murder your crew and steal the ship that brought you here, but that wouldn't have been much of a challenge, not while you all drank and caroused and fucked yourselves into mindless oblivion right under my nose," he held his blade flat against Zoro's, and the swords quivered in their hands, the metal scraping in tiny bursts of strength as neither conceded to the first blow, "but then, when I went to raid your camp, I found that sword....and I knew that destiny was aligning to serve me in a different sort of way." 

Leaning forward, crouching as if ready to pounce although he knew he would crumble if he tried, Sanji gulped. A staggered breath left him, and he wondered if the pain in his chest was a by-product of Armerind's earlier blow. 

"You will duel me, Roronoa Zoro. And I shall not lose." 

Flashbacks might have rocked his senses, anger might have blown his mind, but Sanji couldn't seem to think of anything. His mind went void, useless, as Armerind spoke what he had only been fearing. 

_Why do I have to be here? _He thought with sudden clarity, screaming in his head, _why do I have to hear this, why do I even have to know? _

Armerind's almond-shaped eyes jerked his way, and shot him an impish look that seemed to read Sanji's thoughts. He started, pulling back a little bit, and waited for Zoro's response. 

"Tomorrow, then. Sundown." Rough and determined, Zoro was actually agreeing. 

"What are you trying to prove?" Sanji asked brusquely, not caring that Armerind was still watching him, that the men were still locking steel only a few feet away. 

"A true swordsman never refuses a duel," Zoro responded, snatching his katana away from Armerind's longsword, sheathing it softly and carefully, "but I'd hardly expect you to understand that."

Armerind smirked, and gave a grunt of smug satisfaction as Sanji felt his own skin chill. 

"I'll be keeping my eye on your ship," Armerind sighed contentedly, as if their discord was feeding him. He held his scabbard up and slid the longsword inside with a dramatic motion, "if you make any move to gather your crewmates and leave, you'll be killed."

Sanji knew well enough to believe him. 

"I'd never do such a cowardly thing," Zoro sneered, affronted by the very suggestion. 

"I was talking to _him._" Armerind's dark gaze wandered, slowly, and fixed unmistakably on Sanji. 

He gripped the place above his knee that was throbbing even more when Armerind's eyes caught his. He reminded himself not to move, not to jostle the wound, as badly as he wanted to tackle their host. "Why leave before I have the pleasure of seeing you dead?" he snarled

"Why desire my death?" Armerind asked, briskly and easily as if the following speech had been prepared all along, "you were the first to attack me. My only crimes of cruelty have been in self-defense. I've made it very clear that I don't wish to fight you, particularly. I've spared your nakama, I've fed you and shown you hospitality in my own home. I've even been kind enough to agree to the time of the duel as your lover has specified. Why then, should I die?"

Sanji was coldly silent, hoping to disappear into the moment, close his eyes and wake up far away from it. Back in Zoro's arms on the dew-sprinkled bluff, or wrapped in a blanket with the scent of Nami's hair all around him, the snores of Luffy and Ussop to comfort him. 

"Is it because you _love _him?" Armerind's catlike smile, at its most sadistic, made sure that Sanji felt the sharpness of his verbasl cut, "how absurd, to love a swordsman." 

As his breath quickened and his chest tightened even more, Sanji knew these were no mere side effects of his injury. He made it a point to keep still, to keep quiet. Armerind wanted to rile him. He wanted to invade their affair and use him against Zoro. 

_This bastard wants to exploit me like I'm one of his weaknesses. _

He had to remind himself: 

_Zoro doesn't have any weaknesses. _

"He can't belong to you, you know," Armerind went on, twisting his invisible knife deeper, "today, he belongs to me, tomorrow to his next opponent, and so on and so forth until he is finally killed, tied forever to the one who takes his life. And he'll always, always belong to that sword. You're just a footnote. You're not even that."

Sanji hoped that his expression communicated that he wasn't intent on dignifying him with a response, but then he spoke in spite of his principles. "Die," he spat hatefully. 

"Sanji..." Zoro started, his tone reflexive, abortive. It was obvious that he had nothing to say, no guiding wisdom or comfort to offer. But he had softened his voice just enough to indicate that he wished he did. 

"You shouldn't involve him in this," Zoro directed his next words at Armerind, narrowing his eyes in the fervor of some increasing emotion, "as a man of honor." 

"He is already involved," Armerind explained, "however he remains in our business is his own matter. As an innocent I would have agreed to leave him behind in our dealings, but he has ingratiated himself. Proposing to be a warrior, attempting to bar you from my polite challenge. Besides," another sidelong glance at Sanji, "I don't think he would agree to feign ignorance, even if we relieved him of our company." 

"You can stop talking about me like I'm not here," Sanji remarked.

"You're _nothing_." Armerind shot back harshly, immediately. 

Suddenly, as quickly as anything else that had happened that morning, a point was aimed at Armerind's nose. Zoro's katana was drawn, reflecting the fading firelight, not quite a foot from the islander's face. 

"Is this all you understand?" He jabbed the sword a bit toward Armerind, who hardly flinched, but listened politely to what he had to say, "I asked you to leave him out of this. If I have to bring violence to convince you, then I will." 

Sanji felt humiliated by the drama being played out in his name. "Zoro, I'm perfectly capable of—"

"_This_ _is_ _my_ _duel._" Zoro's eyes were wide, impulsive, crazed, and he turned them on Sanji when he spoke. It was enough to quiet him, enough to disturb him just deeply enough for Armerind's sharp scrutiny to notice. 

"That's not wise," his thick voice addressed them like an outsider looking in, as their eyes remained a little world all alone in unrest, "you don't want to be on bad terms now, considering he may die tomorrow." 

"I'm leaving." Sanji suddenly heaved, a sucking, shuddering breath accompanying his final glare at Zoro before he lurched to his feet. It was difficult to stand, and everything below his knee on one side was still tingling and resisting. It didn't want to function past the pain, but Sanji forced it, gritting his teeth and dragging the leg along as he skulked toward the door. 

He didn't listen to whatever they may have said after his announcement, he only concentrated on his breath, and on getting back into the sunlight. When he broke through the ivy curtain of Armerind's front door, he was struck by the glorious stillness of the morning. They were in paradise - humble and welcoming paradise. But even as a fresh-scented breeze blew through the trees, rustling the canopy overhead and sending a swirl of colorful leaves along the trail in front of Sanji, he could feel nothing but pain. Beauty all around him, but nothing but doubt, despair in his heart and his body. 

Halfway down the path, he leaned into a thick tree trunk, not as exhausted by discomfort as he was by his overwhelming thoughts. Resting his burning forehead against one arm, he whined, wanting even one answer to replace the million questions. His shoulders slumped forward. He felt suddenly weak. 

It was like a beautiful sensation of sleep. He gave in to it, and let his entire body go limp. Without a sound, and even with a tiny little smile, he felt himself begin to fall.

~*~*~

A tiny burning sensation, a barely-there popping sound, and he found himself awake again. 

Well-weathered, soft-worn canvas was beneath him, molding to the uneven waves in the beach's sand. He was stripped from head to toe, pale and naked in what seemed to be the late-morning sun.  A fire burned close by, and by the time he looked blearily into the flame, he realized it had been a spark that had roused him. With a tiny motion, he scooted away, instinctively ready to simply turn around and sleep again. Not yet had he remembered. And subconsciously, his mind wasn't wanting him to. 

He bumped into another body, and within a moment he felt a whisper against his ear, heard his name so softly, so heart-breakingly sweet. "Sanji." 

"Zoro." He replied with a murmur, not even turning around, not needing to. Their bodies were both soaked by the sun, hot to the touch. Dry, smooth skin skimmed the side of his leg as he felt Zoro turn to face him. 

"I don't know what I should say." 

And yes, there were all those memories, all that knowledge he had wanted so desperately to have turned out a dream. It all came flooding back to him at once, and he suddenly realized how much more clearly he could think without Armerind's presence anywhere nearby.

"Hey," his voice trembled, but he forced a stiff upper lip, trying to lose his eyes in the sky until he had the courage to turn his head, "I said I'd compromise, didn't I? I'm ready for this. It's no big deal." 

"But—" 

Desperately, he made a bid to avoid the subject. "Did you carry me back?" 

"Of course," Zoro's answer was so incredulous, so instantaneous, that it pleased Sanji more than he could bear, "our clothes are drying on the rocks. I thought we could go swimming, maybe, before we have lunch." 

_It's just a normal day. _

"You wouldn't rather sleep?" Sanji asked with a smirk. 

"Not today." 

Finally, he looked over. Sand was in Zoro's hair, his cheeks were a little bit burned by the sun, but everything looked just perfect to Sanji's eyes. Especially when the normal, unreadable look on his face faded to make way for a microscopic but irrefutable smile. 

"Are you smiling at me?" Sanji asked, not meaning to whisper but doing so anyway. 

"I'm glad you're all right." 

"It's damned embarrassing," he looked away and snorted, not wanting Zoro to see his humble momentary blush, "to have gotten injured so easily. I'm just ashamed, is all." 

"Somehow, I know exactly what you mean." Zoro answered simply, and laid his flat palm out over Sanji's stomach. 

Sanji enjoyed the feeling for several moments, and finally sighed. "It's just like any other day, right?" 

"Except everyone else is unconscious." 

"We'll just enjoy ourselves, enjoy our vacation."

"You'll make my favorite dinner?" 

"You'll make love to me all night long?" 

"We'll see." 

"Same here." 

They looked at each other and smirked conspiratorially. Just like any other day.


	8. Chapter Eight

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter Eight

Armerind. For as long as he could manage, for as much time as he could eke out of the next precious day, Sanji was determined to forget that name, that face, and all the implications that came along with it. Even if the cunning islander was keeping watch over them, he was resolved not to care less. He stood up in the waist-deep water near the rocky side of the lake, and brushed his wet hair back, enjoying the sun as it added a little color to his alabaster pallor. Armerind wasn't going to ruin the rest of the day, because in the space of a moment, he had learned far too often, the impossible was always likely to happen. 

Together, he and Zoro had made gentle arrangements to Nami, Luffy, and Ussop, rolling them onto their backs, noticing how they were now no longer sleeping contentedly, but truly unconscious, comatose. Quietly they had stared at their nakama, wondering, neither man wanting to say the first word. 

"He would have killed them," Sanji finally muttered, "I suppose we should consider this a fortunate turn of events." 

"I would've liked to see him try." Zoro's voice had been hard, calm, and relentlessly confident.

"He got far enough to do this." Sanji replied somberly, not meaning to cast aspersions on Zoro, but unable to escape the cruel reality of things. 

"We shouldn't have left them," Zoro mumbled, the implication squeezing Sanji's heart. 

"We trusted Nami," he responded firmly, "I'm sure there's no way we can place blame at this point."

"I guess you're right," Zoro quickly retreated into a calm. Sanji wished that he could hit the switches of his emotions so easily, "at least he didn't do them any harm." 

"You admire him." 

"There's something more to him, though. He didn't just decide to do this. He didn't just pack up and become a hermit without something else driving him. I think he's mad." 

"And yet, still, you admire him."

"I'm not sure," neither a confirmation nor a denial, and it answered nothing in Sanji's mind, none of the questions that drew parallels between Zoro's honor and Armerind's fanaticism. His doubts remained,  but in the moments of silence that followed, Sanji scooted closer, and nervously gripped Zoro's fingers like a child. 

When no words came up between them, when Zoro's hand eased into his comfortingly, he finally found the courage to admit, "I'm scared." 

"Don't be," there was unbelievable assurance in his tone, and it did its job of snuffing most of Sanji's fears, "this is nothing. Trust me."

Stiff, conflicted, he replied with a weighty, "Yeah." 

At which point they had decided to go swimming. 

For some time, Sanji spent more time underwater than above, not even wanting to speak to Zoro for fear of saying something he would regret, something that would disturb the tranquility they were trying to capture. Instead, he concentrated on the gentle feeling of floating, swimming through the bright, warm water, dreaming of All Blue and wondering if it could possibly feel so nice. 

He had surfaced near the rocks in hopes of stealing a moment's peace in the sunshine. He blinked at the line of trees on the opposite side of the lake, and enjoyed the feeling of the water lapping serenely around his bare hips. The pain in his leg was subsiding, the more he worked it under the water. It was curious, for such debilitating pain to recede so soon, but he figured that Armerind had known it would be that way all along.

"You're avoiding me." Zoro's voice suddenly shook his body, surprising him so much that he nearly shouted. 

Sanji looked up to find him, and found Zoro sitting atop one of the odd formations protruding from the jetties, only a few feet away. With a sudden dryness in his throat, he was barely able to distinguish the meaning of those words as he studied Zoro's naked body. 

At last, he waded a bit closer. "I guess I sort of am." 

"But I want to be with you today," Zoro said nonchalantly, as if his point didn't even matter, and flicked at what might have been a dragonfly buzzing around his knee, "it's a nice opportunity."

Hoping his blush may have been covered by a sunburn, Sanji stared up at him. "I don't think I'm really in the mood, right now." _You're a horrible liar. And why are you lying, anyway? _

"Jackass," Zoro sneered down at him, obviously a tad insulted, "I meant I want to be around you. Let's spend some time together. Just because I never got along with you before doesn't mean the only time we're allowed to be around each other is when we fuck." 

"I..." Sanji began, but knew his lie wasn't going to last much longer. He nodded thoughtfully, completely off his usual game of piss and sarcasm as he responded, "....yeah, I understand that. I guess I don't want to ruin anything, though. Don't want to burden you." 

His hands flitted over the surface of the water compulsively, his anxiety no doubt showing. But Zoro only chuckled, staring down at him with a look that was soft, almost sweet. "Whatever. I'll follow you, regardless. Unlike you, I don't want to be alone." 

A flash expression of mirth crossed his face as he glanced up, then quickly back down. "I don't want to be alone either, I guess." 

He didn't see it, but as Zoro said, "Whatever happened to you being so selfish?" he could only imagine a smile on his face.

"Get down here." Sanji half-whispered, and waved him forward.

Zoro sat up and swung his legs over the side before sliding into the water. "Like you said before, it's just a regular day."

His skin was glistening in the iridescent noontime sun, and his earrings caught the glare in sparkling little blinks. It was easy to look past the terrible scars from his most recent battle, the ones that still weren't healing as fast as they should have been. Nothing seemed like a blemish when Zoro carried it, each drop of blood like a jewel, each gash in his skin like a badge of honor. Sanji waited for him to come nearer, watching him closely the entire time. 

"Hungry yet?" He asked finally, unable to stand the silence lest he end it with a pounce rather than a word. 

"Of course. But I don't feel like getting out just yet." Zoro came near enough to slide his arms around Sanji's waist, and pulled him forward in a possessive embrace. 

"Yeah, I guess I don't either." 

"You're not very decisive today," Zoro noticed. Sanji had been wondering when he might, "it's not like you." 

"Good of you to notice," Sanji rolled his eyes and muttered, not feeling quite right in the intimate space they were sharing. He squirmed a little in Zoro's arms, wondering what could possibly be making him so uncertain, at the same time that the other man seemed more forthcoming than ever, "it's just surreal. Everything about right now." 

"Well, that goes without saying. It's weird not to have them around, even if this might have been what we were secretly wanting." 

_How unexpectedly insightful. _Sanji raised his eyebrows slightly, and bent his head against Zoro's shoulder with a sigh, letting him support his weight. "I guess we still have a lot of work to do before we're comfortable with each other." 

"You want to know what I think?" 

"Hm?" 

"I don't think anything needs to change. Not really. We're forcing ourselves right now, and it's just stupid," as Zoro spoke, Sanji couldn't help but wonder if he simply hadn't noticed how calming his voice was, when it reassured him, "we're meant to be at odds--somehow we just get along that way. Maybe it's what attracts us. I need to risk my life every other day like it's no big deal, and you need to be a lovesick fool. It makes sense to me, at least." 

"I suppose," he slid his hands over Zoro's arms. He loved the feeling of his muscles beneath his fingers, loved knowing that they were holding him, in some strange way defending him, protecting him. At the same time he felt that joy, he also felt a pang of guilt for not having the same thing to offer Zoro, at least not in such a tangible way, "I just…"

The swordsman still had an uncanny way of saying the simplest thing, and chasing away every argument in Sanji's mind. "You look out for me, and I'll look out for you, okay?" 

He leaned forward and placed an awkward, but well-intentioned, kiss on Sanji's nose.

"Okay." Sanji whispered, not wanting to move, not even wanting to breathe. If Zoro was right--if nothing had to change—then he wasn't going to say anything more. Everything on his mind went against that logic, and seemed completely moot when Sanji re-evaluated the situation. They stayed close, Zoro silent and unquestioning as Sanji cleared his mind of all the worries and doubts, the regrets and the fears. 

_I'm in love with him. I'm in love with everything he is, and everything he was. I don't want him to change. _

He wished there were some fabric to wind his fists into, as his fingers curled against Zoro's shoulders. 

_I don't want him to stop taking risks, and scaring me to death, and seeming not to care. _

With a smile, he looked up at Zoro finally, and moved in to kiss him. 

_Because then it just wouldn't be him at all. _

A breeze blew through, chilling them just a bit as it hit the water on their skin. They kissed silently, almost unmoving, simply meditating on the touch. When Sanji pulled away, his face seemed immediately cured of every despair he had felt before. Zoro seemed to notice the change. 

"A race." Sanji suggested suddenly. 

An explanation wasn't even needed. Zoro simply glanced at him suspiciously, his embrace less placating as the challenge presented itself. "You're still injured." 

"Are you kidding?" Sanji pushed away from him, comfortable enough to break their embrace, and floated back a bit. He lifted his leg, splashing as he did, and kicked out at the knee. With his foot breaking the water, he wiggled his toes and grinned, "it's not that bad. Besides, when it comes to swimming, I could beat you with both hands tied." 

"That's a boast." Zoro scoffed, reaching out and grabbing Sanji's foot. Though he jerked a little in surprise, Sanji managed to relax, pleased, into the touch. He moaned slightly. Zoro reacted with a chuckle, and a tighter grip, "so what are the stakes?" 

"Oh, betting now, are we?" He replied, eyebrows pulsing curiously. 

"Why not make things more interesting?" His hair was dark, nearly black when it was wet. Sanji watched that dark head descend, felt Zoro's lips close sweetly over his big toe. A shudder sent him deeper into the water, nearly submerging again as Zoro's mouth worked little whimpers and whines from him. 

An idea filled his mind with wicked anticipation. "Loser has to do anything the winner wants," Sanji gasped, "anything at all." 

"Oh, that's a good bet." Zoro smiled, relinquishing Sanji's foot to splash forward and tackle him. They floated for a moment before they began to sink, pressing their lips together as the water rushed in around them. 

They drifted beneath as far as they could, as long as their lungs could hold out while they continued their kiss. Finally, with a frantic little shove, a burst of bubbles forced their mouths apart as Sanji swam, breathless, to the surface. They broke into the sunshine, heaving breath, laughing and smiling as they did. 

Sanji reached for Zoro, smoothing down the unruly, freestanding wet hair, rubbed the cool wetness over his cheekbones, and rolled his earlobes between his fingers. "Big ears," he scoffed with a bashful smile, still holding on to them, noticing the euphoric smile the touch painted on Zoro's face. 

"I know," Zoro smirked tightly, trying to think of a suitable comeback while his eyes focused on Sanji's face. At last he pressed a thumb against his forehead, tracing down, "weird eyebrows." 

"Hm," Sanji moaned softly, and closed his eyes as Zoro's touch pressed above them. He whispered over the hushed, rolling sound of the water around them, "baka." 

"Love." Zoro whispered back, and kissed his lips gently, virginally, just soft enough to seem like a dream. 

"What….what did you say?" 

"Nothing at all." Zoro insisted with one breath, combing through Sanji's hair as their kiss deepened. 

But, despite all the posturing, Sanji had heard him loud and clear, and the knowledge made his heart so full it felt bigger than his body could hold. 

~*~*~

Lazy kisses and quiet playfulness marked the moments until they finally resolved to go ahead with the race they had planned. With that, their more familiar personas returned. A private banter of trash-talking and taunting lasted up until the very moment they struck out from the strange rock formation where Zoro had been sitting, and headed for the gnarled tree that was growing some feet deep in one of the swampy inlets hung with overgrowth. 

It didn't last long enough to offer much variety, but Sanji knew that Zoro's mind was focusing on the same thing that his was, on the possibilities presented by the terms of their bet. He figured, as he pushed himself past the stings of discomfort still aggravating his leg, losing wouldn't be so bad, either, at least not where consequences were concerned. As long as their two bodies were concerned, he wasn't afraid of doing anything that Zoro suggested. With a devilish smile, he thought of several scenarios, not one of them less succulent than the last. 

When he reached out for the trunk of the tree, he was panting, practically in agony again from the strain he had wrought upon such a recent wound. But competition was competition, and he was never one to take such things lightly, especially when the suggestion had been his in the first place. 

The space of one breath allowed him a triumphant smile as he reached up. But in the split second he hesitated, savoring his obvious victory, Zoro's hand suddenly shot out of the water, and all Sanji touched was the back of his palm. 

He gaped, blinking through the water and the dripping hair in his eyes. 

"I win." Zoro panted beside him.

They didn't discuss the terms of the wager at that moment. No, that moment was reserved for the expected bickering and accusations of cheating, the sort of un-sportsmanlike conduct that each was so eager to subject the other to. Their stomachs were grumbling by that point as an appropriate backdrop to the row, and as they pulled themselves onto the beach thoughts of unrest were quickly replaced by the all-consuming feeling of hunger. 

Sanji cooked and smoked, naked but for his apron, watching between glances at the fire as Zoro did push-ups and crunches in the sand. For some time they pouted, determined to be nettled if for no other reason than keeping up appearances. 

"Oi." Sanji called across the beach, digging his toes into the sand as their one-pot lunch simmered to the side.

Zoro glanced up, leveled his eyes at Sanji expectantly, and rolled over onto one side. It would have been a lie to say, that, after only a few hours, he was already jaded to the flagrant nudity. With a small, forceful sigh, Sanji kept his eyes from drifting, and cocked his head at Zoro. "You think he's watching?" 

"I've been wondering that. I suspect, though, that he's watching the ship rather than us. Of course, if he is," Zoro threw one hand into the air and waved, his face drawn with ennui, "it means he's not practicing, and that means good things for me." He let out a confident breath, and rose to his feet. Sand clung in pastiche patterns all over his skin, and no matter how much he tried to wipe away, there always seemed to be more. Sanji glanced over for a moment to lift the lid on the pot, and a cloud of steam bellowed from within. The scent of spice and seafood started to waft along the beach, and it was almost enough of a distraction that Sanji didn't fixate on Zoro's hands roughly dusting the sand from his ass. 

"So you're going to go practice, are you?" Sanji said, not even realizing until he said it that his voice was so flat, so accusatory. 

"Uh-huh." Obliviously, Zoro stretched his arms, rolled his shoulders, cracked his back at enough distance that Sanji's skin didn't creep to hear it. 

"Good," he cast a momentary glance up, and then, just as quickly, back down to the pot, "you should be prepared." 

"What's the food?" Zoro nodded his head at the pot, casually brushing off Sanji's disinterested tone.

"Shrimp jambalaya." He muttered. 

"Oh," Zoro paused. The moment was wholly uncomfortable. "I, um…I really like that." 

"I know." 

Sanji let out an aggravated puff of smoke. It had only taken a few moments for the mood to change completely. Foremost of his compulsions was to rise to his feet, retrieve his clothes, get dressed and pout for the rest of the day. Nothing, he knew, would sink his spirits faster than watching Zoro train like a zealot.

_This is completely childish of me. _He knew, and he told himself, and he tried to fight it in his heart. _Any other time I'd stand aside and watch him fight, and just wait. I'd make some snide remark about his outmoded sense of honor, and I'd refuse to let his bloody ass in my kitchen. _

A pang of premature loneliness stung him, and for a moment he had a terrifying thought. 

_If he loses….I'll be alone until the others wake up. A night…maybe longer._

He'd never been alone. All his life there had always been someone within arm's reach, earshot, or walking distance at least. He may have sequestered himself, touted his solitude, but the comfort Sanji required was something he had never requested, and had always taken for granted. Not until now, with the horrible prospect of a long, lonely night ahead of him on this damned, strange island, did he realize how much he had always relied on the unspoken presence of others. 

_I'll never forgive him for making me think this much. And about such depressing things. _He chewed on the cigarette's filter with his front teeth as he began to dim the fire under the pot. 

"Well, eat up, then," he sighed, thrusting a bowl at Zoro. He didn't even look at him. Somehow, he was determined to once again be as bratty as possible. 

After a time, the bowl still hadn't been taken. He shook it once, then glanced over with a stern, lifted eyebrow. 

Zoro was crouching close by, staring intently, analyzing his face. 

"What?!" Sanji barked. 

"Oh my god, you're _pouting_." Zoro realized with a sneer, and snatched the bowl from Sanji's hand. The cook only snorted in response. With a gentle thump, Zoro planted himself in the sand, and scooped up his lunch in silence. 

Sanji wasn't fond of jambalaya, at least not the way Zoro enjoyed it. Too much pepper – not enough rice. But, when Zoro had asked for his favorite, considering their limited provisions, it was the only thing he could think of. He ate nervously, pushing around his meat to pick out the rice and vegetables, even as Zoro helped himself to a second bowlful. 

"It's really good," was the first thing he managed amidst his gorging, "thanks."

"Hey, no problem. I know it's good." Sanji answered cattily, hiding behind his hair as he hungered for a nice steak with mushroom sauce, or a delicate chicken l'orange. 

"I hope this doesn't make me tired," as if he ever needed an excuse, "I can't afford to fall right to sleep." 

Sanji let out a sigh, and dropped his fork against the inside of his bowl with a clatter. "You have a whole day and a half, don't strain yourself." 

Zoro stared apathetically, swallowed, and finally pointed at him. "Okay, if you're going to be selfish, don't give yourself away by pretending to be concerned for my welfare." 

Bitterly speechless, Sanji only glared back. 

With a scoff, Zoro muttered under his breath, "Drama queen." 

"So what are you going to make me do?" Sanji asked point-blank. 

"Oh, you mean the bet?"

"Of COURSE I mean the bet, idiot." So much for taking him by surprise by being blunt. 

"Well, um," Zoro blushed, and Sanji noticed, but they both did their best to seem nonchalant, "I hadn't thought about it yet, not at length." 

"Liar." 

"No, really," Zoro growled back, still shoveling in whatever food would fit between words, "the minute we started racing, I guess my mind sort of switched gears." 

"Yeah…my thoughts don't tend to shift around that easily." 

"No," Zoro replied firmly, immediately, "you have a pretty one-track mind, you just don't want to admit it. You have undisciplined thought patterns, it's also why you can't sleep." 

"I didn't know you were a psychiatrist. Eat your damn food." 

Zoro held up his fork pointedly, as if to drive home the point that he already was, "Fuck you, you just don't want to take advice." 

"You know, you make an awful lot of assumptions about me." 

"And most of them are right." 

"Hn." Sanji looked away, toward the line of trees where they had disappeared into the woods following after Armerind. He listened to the sloppy, unrefined sounds of Zoro eating, not in the least bit tempered by the calming roll of the ocean just past their sights. Absent-mindedly, he leaned back a little, and touched his stomach through the pink fabric of his apron. He could practically feel his ribs, and he knew that couldn't have been attractive. "Eh, I haven't eaten enough lately." He chastised himself, not really caring if Zoro heard. 

"Well, I know what I'd like to do, but that's not really making YOU do something, really, except lay still." 

Sanji paused, fingers still pressed against his abdomen, and looked over at Zoro curiously. "What?" 

"The bet, idiot, I'm talking about the bet. Now you've got me thinking about it." He munched thoughtfully, a shrimp tail sticking out of his mouth as he looked off into the distance thoughtfully. 

"Well, that's a good th—" 

He spat the tail into the sand, and Sanji noticed with a bit of distaste that he'd built quite the collection. Fighting back a frown of disgust, he listened as Zoro went on. "Hey, how does it feel?" 

Sanji blinked rapidly, and lifted one eyebrow again. He was getting used to that. "Pardon?" 

"You know…how does it feel?" Zoro repeated suggestively, importantly, his tone explaining everything to Sanji. 

"Ah," Sanji nodded, almost embarrassed that he hadn't caught his meaning at first. Foolishly shy at the topic, he looked down at the sand and traced abstract shapes with his finger as he shrugged and murmured, "you know, it's not…it's not painless or anything…feels really weird at first…you sort of get used to it. Kinda takes your breath away, feels a little like sea-sickness for a bit. Then it just feels good. After a while. And, you know, getting stimulated has been pretty easy for me, I don't know about anyone else, though…" He cleared his throat loudly, by that point blushing scarlet. 

"You'd touched yourself that way before, though, right?" 

The understatement to end all others would have been that Sanji was shocked by the question. "Again with the assumptions!"

Zoro shook his head and let out a tiny, subdued belch. Sanji was almost inclined to thank him for showing some relative decorum considering the topic at hand. "You masturbate like a mad-man, don't think I don't know. And you're a pretty kinky bastard, I'd figure you would have—" 

"Kinky bastard?!" Sanji almost squeaked in indignation, "I put women on their backs and fuck them, that's kinky?" 

Zoro shrugged, rolled his eyes, and shot Sanji a deep, knowing glare. "You're a freak, Sanji. I can sort of tell these things." 

Flabbergasted, Sanji couldn't even find the presence of mind to muster up a snappy retort. Instead he just fluttered his eyes, shook his head, and squinted as he hissed, "Yes, okay? I have."

"Uh-huh," Zoro said quickly, as if he had known the entire time. Sanji felt the surging need to kick him square in the craw, but resisted, "so that means you were even less of a virgin than I am." 

"Well, that goes without saying." 

"You know what I mean." 

"Yeah, I was," like it was another damned competition. Sanji knew well enough to twist the topic to his advantage, "but in worldly terms, I was more experienced, not 'less of a virgin.'" 

The swordsman smiled smugly, finishing off the last of what Sanji counted as his fourth helping of jambalaya. He set aside the bowl and lifted his knees, draping his arms over them as he sighed contentedly. 

"Okay, I decided!" Zoro said suddenly, enthusiastic in a subtle, unnerving way. Something about that tone always suggested to Sanji that Zoro was about to say or do something very irresponsible.

"Eh?" 

"Yeah, take mine." Zoro pointed at himself and smiled evilly. 

"Your what?" Sanji shrugged brusquely, still bristling a bit. He was on his third cigarette since Zoro had started eating. 

"My virginity, idiot." 

Sanji crunched the filter firmly between his teeth, coughing to expel the smoke that had gone directly into his lungs. Zoro laughed heartily at the moment, and only continued to guffaw as Sanji tried mightily to catch his breath and stop his eyes from watering.

On instinct, he growled in accusation, flashing a look of venom as he recovered. In the time it took Zoro's laughter to wane, he still couldn't think of an adequate reply. 

"I….you mean….you're serious?" Sanji pulled a face.

Zoro's expression melted into heavy eyes and a lazy smile, as he tilted his head slightly, almost shyly. "Of course I am. What, don't you want to?" 

"Why would YOU want to?"

With a shrug of his shoulders, Zoro smirked dismissively. His eyelids rested as he leaned forward over his knees. "Since when do I need a reason?" 

Sanji cleared his throat, and moved to light a new cigarette. But when he reached for the pack, he found it to be empty. With a soft curse, he crushed the paper in his hand and tossed it back in the direction of the camp. All the while, Zoro eyed him. 

_Must've been smoking like a chimney these last few days, _he surmised with a sigh, _I've been a little too nervous for my own good. _

"Don't you have any more?" Zoro asked finally, some time after Sanji had pitched the empty pack out of sight. 

"Nope, not here," Sanji shrugged, trying to act cool although the prospect of breaking the habit for a day or two caused a tingle of fright in his mind, "back on the ship, though. Not that we can go that way for a while, if Armerind has anything to do with it." 

"Well, all's fair, then. It's harder to kiss you when you've got one of those things in your mouth." 

Zoro glanced over at him impishly. Sanji started, clenching his shoulders and widening his eyes. "Well that's certainly a bright side," he wanted to add an invitation for Zoro to make good on that optimism, but without warning they retreated into their silence yet again. 

It lasted some time, this time, as they listened to the tropical chorus of wind and water and swaying trees. Finding the upright position a little tiresome, Sanji fell onto his back, the gritty-soft cushion of sugary sand molding to his form as he snuggled in and stared up at the sky. Clouds were moving lazily through, casting shadows over the water and the beach. _This is what everyone thinks about when anyone says 'paradise'_, he thought to himself, using the moment as a reminder of how lucky they were to have a moment or two to enjoy.

And then, he thought about what Zoro wanted him to do. Immediately, he felt his stomach shudder with butterflies, as the feeling refused to take the form of any tangible reaction in his head. He couldn't put his desire into words, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to do that wonderful thing they were planning, so teasing and coyly abortive even in their efforts to discuss it. 

Even with the eagerness, even with that desire, he simply couldn't bring any images to mind. It was simple to imagine himself in any position at Zoro's mercy, but the other way around…? That was like sexual calculus, impossible to comprehend on any plane of reason and logic. 

A cloud moved by, and suddenly Sanji felt the heat of the sunshine warm his body again.

"Zo-ro…" he called singsong, eyes still closed, one arm thrown over them to block the now-glaring sunlight. A nervous lilt seemed to shake his voice.

"Mm?"

"Do we even have any sunscreen here?" He was suddenly concerned about his pallor giving way to an unspeakable, untouchable lobster tint. 

"Yeah," Zoro replied, a bit surprised, as if the fact had been front page news, "have you not used any at all?"

Sanji held up a hand and sighed. "Just toss it here."

A little rustling, a little shifting, and Zoro pitched a small bottle toward him. Sanji caught it in the palm of his hand; the throw had been hard enough to sting him on impact. A smile chased the instant wince, and he popped the cap of the bottle, hoping it wasn't too late for such a thing. 

The sunscreen smelled the way Nami sometimes smelled when she sunbathed on the deck; like salt-air and coconut, so sweet and intense. Sanji gave a tiny moan in appreciation of the aroma as he went about lathering himself, smiling while he did. 

As he sat up to reach back for his shoulders, he found Zoro watching him. It was what he expected by that point, but he was still as stunned as ever, as suddenly fired, to glimpse Zoro's body. He gulped discreetly, managed a flirtatious glance below the waist, and smiled again as he went on with his task. 

"Don't forget your face." Zoro mumbled. 

Sanji had been in the process of setting the bottle aside. "Oh…" he blinked, and lifted it back sheepishly, "thanks."

For as long as it took Sanji to stroke down one side of his face, paying particular attention to his no-doubt pinkish nose, Zoro watched in silence. But when he touched his forehead, almost finished, Zoro suddenly spoke up again. 

"Let me get your back." 

"That's okay," Sanji replied quickly, and noted the swordsman's incredulous face, "no, really, I don't plan on—"

"You really don't get out in the sun much, do you? You're practically cooked already; we'll be lucky if you're not in agony by tomorrow. Let me do it." Zoro snapped softly, already moving forward in the sand. Sanji blinked obliviously. Aside from his face, he didn't feel burnt at all.

"I haven't really gotten that much—"

Zoro sighed, and moved behind Sanji, fingers hot on his shoulders as they glanced over his back for a critical moment. "Baka, it never hurts until you're out of the sun." 

There was a tone of genuine worry in Zoro's voice, and when he concentrated on that Sanji's happiness superseded the fear that by the time Nami woke up he'd be a sunburned mess. _How unattractive_, he lamented, and rolled his eyes. 

And then, Zoro's palm whisked over his back, brushing away the sand before he applied the sunscreen. With two little grunts, he swung his legs out, and planted one on either side of Sanji from behind. Sanji smiled in spite of himself, knowing that if he wanted to be particularly mischievous he could prop his arms up on Zoro's knees, and lean into him like a throne. The prospect actually seemed quite comfortable, but at that moment, impossible.

After all, Zoro's hands were now slick with lotion, working over the expanse of his back. He bent forward a little, and stifled the soft moans of pleasure that rose instinctively at Zoro's touch.  Suddenly he wondered if his apron would be coming off any time soon, but Zoro was quick to answer the question for him. When the kneading hands dipped low enough to reach the obstruction, Sanji felt Zoro's fingers wind quickly into the knotted pink bow, loosing the apron, letting the ties fall away to his sides. 

Sanji smiled. "Zoro."

"Yeah?" Zoro's hands slid quickly up his sides, tickling him, and he squirmed a bit. 

"Whatcha thinking?" 

After a pause, Zoro placed his fingers on Sanji's shoulders. "That you have a nice body." 

"Thanks."

"…how about now?" He suddenly added. 

Sanji was confused. "Now, what?" 

With a firm hand Zoro turned his chin, and closed his lips over Sanji's. The other arm ensnared his waist, and drew him through the sand until their bodies were flush together. The kiss deepened and Zoro's legs wrapped closer, practically hugging him.

This time, Sanji did lift his arms, draping them over the other man's legs as their tongues tangled slowly, patiently. As his back pressed against Zoro's hard chest, feeling his heartbeat and the lurch of his breath, he realized he did feel a little hotter than usual. Perhaps he had narrowly averted sunburn. 

"Thanks," he smiled as they parted, and licked his lips, "for getting my back." The smell of the lotion from Zoro's fingers was clinging to the stubbly little hairs on his chin, filling his senses from every angle. His eyes must have sparkled, and Zoro must have noticed.

He pushed his fingers up through Sanji's stringy-wet hair, and rested his chin on his shoulder. "I want you," he murmured casually into his ear, "I want you now."

Briefly, Sanji wondered at nature's design, that he could waste his whole life trying, and never learn to be as alluring as Zoro was, simply by being himself. He let out a shaky breath, and inhaled slowly through his nose, picking up the scent of Zoro's sweat to mingle with the suntan lotion. He felt his body warm, felt the shivers of desire wake up inside. 

"Right here?" Sanji sighed peacefully. 

"Right here." Zoro replied. 

"Okay." 


	9. Chapter Nine

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter Nine

"What if he's watching?" Sanji remarked off-handedly, as Zoro's hand ran over the front of his apron, quickly finding the tent of fabric above his growing erection. He purred his approval into Sanji's ear, glimpsing over his shoulder before grabbing it, clenching the fabric around it as he did. 

As Sanji arched against him, Zoro smirked and replied, "Let him watch." 

The fabric came down with Zoro's strokes, stretching over the tip of his cock, soaking him up as he dug his feet into the sand. Up to his ankles, he kept burying, never finding enough friction to push back against Zoro, who remained like a brick wall against his urgent, straining movements. Sounds came from him, no cover of rain or nighttime to temper them. Little whimpering cries, louder with the expectation of what was to come. 

"How…how do you want to…?" Sanji started to ask, finding very few words to go on.

"Mmm…" Zoro pushed into him, letting his cock slide against the sensitive dip at the small of Sanji's back. When the move met with a cry of approval, he went on, "lay back and I can ride you." 

Sanji's ears tingled from the heat that shot through him. He was hardly aware that Zoro's hand was slower, almost unmoving now, the fabric of his apron loosening. Within a moment, it was being pulled up. _He wants to see me naked, _Sanji thought, the feeling of euphoria only compacting, overflowing, until his heart was beating so hard he knew it wasn't simply ego.

Still, words managed to fail him, as Zoro slipped the apron slowly over his head, unsettling the flyaway patches of blonde hair that had already dried in the wind. Sanji shook his head and smiled, a few deep breaths inflating him as he looked down the line of his body. He saw himself hard, glistening, with Zoro's dark hand perfectly contrasting his pale skin. A rumbling purr of amazement grew from the sight. 

When the long, perfectly calloused fingers reached up and wound around his cock, Sanji only jerked his hips slightly, and allowed himself a tiny, uttering moan. "You're pretty colorful in the daylight." Zoro whispered into his ear, chin resting in its usual way, lazy and still on his shoulder. 

With a blush and a tittering laugh, Sanji tried to think of the best response, but all he could think of while he watched Zoro's fingers stroke him idly was a breathy, "Thank you." 

"I don't know if that was a compliment," Zoro replied calmly, poignantly. A moment of indignation twisted Sanji's lips, but he had to admit, the words weren't without their truth, "especially with the sunburn coming on. You know there's a tan line on you from the apron?" His other hand snaked around and touched the stark dividing line where a deep peachy-red was interrupted by the ghostly white of Sanji's chest.

"I didn't know you were referring to that," Sanji squirmed and moaned, smirking.

"Well it wasn't the first thing I was commenting on, certainly," Zoro admitted with a deep murmur, and turned his head to lick Sanji's ear, which was no doubt hot under his tongue. To drive their playful point home, he swept his hand around deftly to palm the head of Sanji's cock, "you're so pretty when you're hard." 

"Pretty?" Sanji replied in a whisper, eyes closing to concentrate completely on Zoro's voice. His knees fell further apart, melting as wide as they could.

"Fuckable." Zoro clarified quickly. 

"Then let's fuck." 

"Yeah." 

Zoro moved from behind him smoothly, cradling Sanji's head long enough to lean down and kiss him. They pulled away, Sanji toward a pillow of sand as their tongues kept contact.

"Put your fingers inside of me." Zoro suddenly commanded him. 

No poetry could have sounded more beguiling. Sanji reached out, hand blindly searching for the bottle of suntan lotion he knew had landed somewhere close by. His eyes still studied Zoro, who was sitting to block the sunlight, dark in the shadow he cast over Sanji's body. He waited patiently as Sanji nervously touched the bottle, and grasped it in his fingers. "Is this okay?" He asked uncertainly, bringing it close to his chest with a slow, stealthy movement. 

Zoro smiled with genuine amusement, and bent down over him. He caught Sanji's cheeks in his hands and shook his head as he leaned close. "I want you to be a little more confident than this, baka." He clarified, tongue darting out to sample Sanji's lips before they gave in to another sea-salty kiss and lost their thoughts momentarily, "don't force me to make fun of you." 

With a breaking gasp, Sanji nodded, and did his best to feel comfortable in the smirk he forced to his mouth. "All right, then," he reached up and placed one hand on Zoro's hot skin, wiping away some of the sugary sand that was clinging to his thigh, "I just won't ask any questions, then." 

"Please don't," Zoro rumbled suggestively, and kissed him again, as Sanji's hand began to wander, "just trust your instincts." 

It felt strange to touch him, even considering how close they had been, what seemed like so many times in Sanji's mind. Really, he stopped to think, had he ever taken such a slow, meditative trip over Zoro's flesh, save the rushed, secret, exploring midnight touches on the _Going Merry _or the rain-soaked afterglow of the night before? Everything his lover had, it seemed to be given to him, and not simply his to enjoy. He had to recalibrate his mind, assure himself that his hands were free, and capable, to sample Zoro's body as they wished. There didn't need to be any agenda that was thrust upon him. This was like romancing a beautiful woman, all over again. Why did it seem so foreign suddenly? _Just like enjoying a beautiful woman….a beautiful woman with rock-hard abs and a magnificently sculpted back and a big, hard—_

He gasped in spite of himself as his fingers stole between Zoro's legs, touched him where he had never imagined he might. Zoro only smiled above him with some façade of calm, on his hands and knees, slightly sideways over Sanji. At just the perfect angle for Sanji's fingers to slide where they pleased, while the swordsman watched every expression of conflict play on his face. 

A tiny shift disrupted Sanji's fingers as they cautiously tickled the inside of one powerful thigh, and Zoro spread his legs a little more. In a move that rendered the humbled cook speechless and still for a few moments, Zoro used the new position to bend over Sanji's chest, pressing his cheek to one pinkish nipple, listening as the heart beneath raced. Ass hoisted into the air, spread-eagled on his knees, chest practically to the ground. Zoro only smirked at him. "Should I stay like this?" He smiled, teasing as if his life depended on it. 

"That would be nice." Sanji smirked out of one side of his mouth, and lifted his other hand to hold down Zoro's head. Neither party seemed at all displeased.

By the time Sanji upturned the bottle of suntan lotion, letting a smooth, copious stream fall between Zoro's legs from behind, he was barely convinced that he would even make it without coming on the spot. He was throbbing to be touched, but enjoying the anticipation far too much to be selfish. Zoro let out a muted groan, clenching his eyes gently shut as the lotion cooled his skin and tickled his unknown places. Sanji smiled, convinced himself once again that it was mind over matter, and slid one finger up through the slickness left behind. 

"All right, then." Sanji breathed, his only preparation and warning before he did exactly as he had been told. They both hardly reacted at the first touch—only paltry twitches from their mouths, ineffectual darting eyes that spoke of some unusual panic at the depth of the intimacy they were daring to share. The panic tensed Zoro's body all over, made it difficult for Sanji to decide whether to laugh or offer him advice. 

"Relax." He finally muttered, somehow able to smile warmly as he touched Zoro deeper, thicker, meticulous and careful until the swordsman finally sighed with a measure of pleasant calm. 

"Yeah…"

"Yeah what?" Sanji asked, his fingers moving faster, his mind doing everything it could to keep his cock from that painful twitching, wanting so badly to be in that place. Zoro's eyes fluttered, opening and closing in uneven little bursts of calm and energy, as erratic as the breath that was gusting from his mouth. Sanji couldn't help but smirk at the knowledge that he knew those feelings, too. 

"Yeah, it's starting to feel really nice." 

"I warned you it might." He smiled playfully, and scissored his fingers once, twice inside of Zoro, who tensed and bucked against the touch. 

"Sanji—" Zoro gasped, flattening his wet, hot-breathing mouth against Sanji's chest as the touches became harder, more forceful, more indicative of what Sanji intended to do, "let's—"

"Kiss me." Sanji interrupted. 

Trembling, little trails from his watering eyes flaring out toward his ears, Zoro blinked up at him, and shimmied up toward Sanji's mouth. Their lips a hairsbreadth apart, Sanji whispered, "No." 

Zoro pulled back, and Sanji withdrew his fingers. The swordsman blinked in confusion; the cook only smirked in control. 

"Not here," Sanji tapped his lower lip, which was refusing to do anything but smile, and turned his fingers lower, past the suntan line and the traces of Zoro's kisses and tears on his chest, "kiss me down there. Before we go any further." 

Appreciation for the request dawned on Zoro's face. Without a word, he shifted, and half-rolled, half-scooted down the line of Sanji's body, finally sprawling himself across his upper thighs. Only a current of rainforest wind came between his lips and Sanji's cock. "You can't just say it, can you? Always have to be so polite about things like this. Did you forget you don't have to be a gentleman around me?" 

With a bared-teeth smile, Zoro's hand clamped gently around the shaft, pushing a stream of precome out with a shudder. Sanji arched his back and moaned, writhing a bit beneath the touches, finding little purchase in the sand that only sifted through his fingers when he tried to grab handfuls and squeeze. 

"But that's what I want you to do," he whined, trying his best to sound like the dominant one but failing miserably. Still, something about the far-off, worshipful glaze over Zoro's eyes suggested that he wasn't entirely in control of the situation, either. That beautiful head leaned closer, and Sanji gently lifted his hips toward it. Zoro's tongue protruded for a teasing appearance, and never quite let itself reach the hardness that begged for it. By the time Sanji's breath was fitful and short, wheezing and whimpering as Zoro still refused to give him the satisfaction, he was surprised to find the strength to go on, "I want you to kiss it." He begged. 

"Just kiss it?" Zoro's eyebrows pulsed devilishly, his eyes absolutely fixed on the vision before them. _Oh yes, _Sanji assured himself, with a flush of pride that momentarily superseded his pain, _he likes it. He likes it a little too much. _"You're sure you don't want me to suck it, too?" 

Clenching his teeth, Sanji snarled, "Fucking tease!" and heaved an exasperated, straining breath, "no…I'll need to save myself for when I'm fucking your ass." 

"Very well." The guttural voice almost chirped, and Sanji's throat tied a breathless knot as Zoro's head dipped in low, setting off fireworks in his brain as pursing lips kissed inch-by-inch, smacking up to the very tip, where they paused. Zoro licked his chops, smiled, and laid one more kiss, hard and sucking, on the very crown of Sanji's cock. Though his legs were held down by Zoro's weight, Sanji wanted to lift them. He wanted to float in that moment that was over so quickly, such beautiful attention having never been dealt to him before. Momentarily he congratulated himself on possessing the fortitude not to come as quickly as he had feared (not that, judging by the look on Zoro's face, it would have been unwelcome). 

"Well," his voice trembled toward the sky, his entire body trembling toward Zoro, "seeing that the two of you are properly acquainted…" Zoro smiled at this, and met his eyes before Sanji added what was perhaps the most majestically tasteless phrase he had ever employed, "now get on it."  
 

Zoro breathed an inward, barely audible scoff of approval, whisking his fingers over the wet, darkish shaft once more before pushing up from Sanji with a grunt. Sanji watched his body carefully, admiring the beautiful movement of his limbs and the powerful muscles that had never proved a detriment to his grace. 

Without even knowing it, he breathed, "You're beautiful." 

Planting his hands and well as his knees on either side of Sanji, preparing to straddle him, Zoro stared down at him, a little baffled. "I'm what?" 

Sanji's cheeks flushed, as if he had been caught in a terrible lie. _But it's not a lie, _he told himself, _that's how I'm looking at him, appreciating all of that. He's beautiful…for a man. _He cleared his throat nervously and reiterated with closed eyes, "I said you're beautiful." 

"I am?" Zoro smirked, and pulled up onto his knees, cock jutting out over Sanji's stomach, casting a shadow that caught the cook's eye, "that's not one I've heard before."

He reached back and fingered Sanji's erection. Sanji lifted his skinny hips between the bridge of Zoro's legs, and clenched his eyes shut tightly, panting as he waited. Instinctively, he knew that Zoro wanted to be a natural at this, wanted to do everything perfectly the first time without any help or any setbacks. So when he began to sit back, and Sanji felt himself slip inside of Zoro's body, he silently thanked him for not wasting any time.

Flip-flopping from his chest to his throat, Sanji's heart reacted with a seizure to the newness of the feeling, the tightness all around him as Zoro slowly sank down onto his cock. When he found himself pinned to the ground, strangled by wonder, at the mercy of Zoro's next move, he suddenly understood things much more clearly. He could see why Zoro, ever the logical utilitarian, was so apt to fuck him with fast, ferocious thrusts. Sanji could understand now, with the jolts of pleasure caused by each little shift of Zoro's body, how no one in their right mind could wait. At least not the first time; not this time. 

"Zoro, oh god, move," he begged, his voice wavering, "shit, it feels so _good_." 

Zoro panted through his nose above him, little whistling gusts of breath that said he was focusing his thoughts, becoming accustomed to everything. Sanji reached up and pressed his sweating, sandy palm to the rise of Zoro's scar. "How is it?" He asked, almost panicked by the possibility that Zoro was completely disgusted by the feeling. 

Green eyes flashed open under the shadow of his brow, and Zoro's gaze focused on his breathless lover. A second passed, and he leaned forward, sending a shock of feeling through Sanji as he unsheathed him to the edge of withdrawal, and then pushed back, seating himself to the hilt once more. Their eyes locked, and neither spoke as Zoro continued in this position, sphinx-like over Sanji's chest, his movements hard and thorough, their effect on Sanji absolutely unmistakable. 

He was still staring up at those green eyes when the hollering reactions began to rise to his throat. Unchecked cries of pleasure that built, only heightening the power of the feelings. The roles hadn't been reversed all that much, Sanji managed to think between frantic non-thoughts, and Zoro still wielded that dominance he loved so much. He grimaced in concentration, an expression that Sanji had always imagined on his face when they fucked, and drove himself violently into the act. Sweating in the hot sun, nothing but intensity all over him. 

It only took a few minutes, barely a handful, for Sanji to know that he was too far gone to last. He reached up and gripped Zoro's neck, splayed his fingers into his hair, and bellowed his name with every intention for Armerind to hear it, wherever he was. The cries that followed – as he tensed, shook, and came deep inside of Zoro – he also wanted to be heard. For a moment he didn't give a damn if Zoro had gotten any pleasure from the romp at all; fireworks were blinding his thoughts, dazing his mind, and all that mattered in those moments was the fact that no woman, not ever in the past, not likely ever in the future, had felt so amazing or made him come so terrifically hard. 

 His hands slid from Zoro's neck and his arms collapsed, boneless on the sand. His chest heaved, his eyes fluttered sleepily as his body played dead. He heard the soft, sucking sounds of their bodies as Zoro slid off of him, and fell on top of his chest. 

Their mouths greeted each other not with words, but with a hot, fumbling kiss, smearing tongues and lips, still not satisfied no matter what their bodies may have ever had to say. That was their bond, Sanji knew, Zoro's breath tickling and burning his face as it fell over every inch he kissed; they were both insatiable. In battle, in life, in excitement and sex, they were never content with what was enough. As he felt Zoro's cock slick with precome and sliding over his belly as they kissed, Sanji knew what was next. He knew what had to be. 

"Your turn." He whispered salaciously, as if Zoro would have ever needed the option. Barely an instant seemed to pass before Zoro's fingers were dripping with the lotion they had claimed as their own, thrusting regardless into Sanji's body. 

Legs aloft over Zoro's hips, one lifted almost to his shoulder, Sanji writhed in anticipation. Thankfully, Zoro, still silent as the grave, was not in the mood to prolong his agony this time. In a deft flash of motions, Zoro slathered his cock, hitched Sanji's legs with his elbows, and sliced into him with complete absence of reserve.  

His screams were bouncing off the rocks that surrounded the clearing of their camp, so loud that Sanji wondered if they were rippling the water on the lake. Zoro twisted him like a pretzel, never content in one position of the supple, flexible body that was pleasantly at his complete disposal. Although at several points he felt his right leg ache sharply from the still-healing wound of that morning, nothing seemed to matter as much when he was looking up at Zoro, whose eyes told him without needing a word that it was heaven to be in his place.

Knees over Zoro's shoulders, and Zoro bent completely over his chest, Sanji struggled for breath after shuddering, shrieking breath as his erection reappeared and exploded again, all within what must have only been five minutes, maybe less. Again, Zoro's pace was alarming, his stamina mind-boggling. The muscles in Sanji's legs were actually beginning to quiver, unable to stand the extremity of their position.  Zoro still thrust on and on, blinding him with thrills of relish and pleasure. Sand ground amidst the sweat between their bodies, and the sun continued to beat down. At times it took all Sanji had to convince himself he wasn't near to passing out from heat stroke. 

"Zoro…." He panted, clawing at the solid slickness of Zoro's shoulders, "I can't….it's too much, I'm…I'm feeling a little faint…"

He wasn't expecting a reply at all, and so was absolutely stunned to receive the one he did. "Tell me you love me again." They were the first words Zoro had spoken since the moment they had begun, almost a half an hour ago.  Sanji's brain raced desperately to comprehend their rather simple meaning, but couldn't manage it without stammering:

"What?" 

Zoro didn't seem to be in the mood for explaining himself, and in fact seemed a little bit ashamed at his own request. He closed his eyes, grimace of concentration still on his face as he snarled, "Just say it. Please. Now. I'm coming." 

A little taken aback, but certainly not meaning it any less, Sanji formed the words, "I love you…" thinking only as Zoro's voice broke out with a soft, groaning cry, to add, "…Zoro."

His toes curled and his hips rose against the awkward tightness of Zoro's body as he felt the swordsman come inside of him. But he kept his eyes wide open, still agape and shocked at the unexpected request. Zoro panted over him. A bead of sweat dropped in a little dive down the side of his nose, and fell off onto Sanji's chest. Every inch of his body breathed, reacted, worked as hard as it could to relax, and to quell the shaking and spinning in his head. Even as Zoro sat back on his knees and released Sanji's legs, no words were to be heard from either of them.

It took a long time for Sanji to find himself in that eerily silent moment. Somehow it felt like something had been done that was changing the fabric of their interaction, but Sanji didn't know how to define it. _He wanted to hear me say it, right before he came…_ he thought to himself, staring up at the infinite, blue, cloudless sky above Betoni Island, _is that as good as admitting he loves me, too? Or is it just that he wants to know that I'm his, absolutely; just another stage of his power game? _

"Why'd you have to go and fuck it up like that?" He asked, half-joking, half-serious. Sanji wanted to test Zoro, wanted to see if he could distinguish the levity from the sobriety.

Zoro seemed unfazed, still panting in recovery and staring up as well. His arms hung limp by his sides, and his knees were still tucked beneath him. "I thought it would make you happy." It was another defiant comment, right back at him. Sanji expected, but didn't necessarily fear, that it would continue as such a tennis match. Emotions were never so easy to ferret out. 

"So you just did that to make me happy? Didn't seem like you were in such a state to think objectively." 

"I'm just surprised that you're so defensive about it." 

"I'm not defensive," he wanted a cigarette so bad that it hurt, "just a little rattled by it, that's all."

"Can I help it, that I like to hear you say it?" 

"You can try, if you're just being selfish." 

Zoro flopped over on his side, and stretched out in the sand. Sanji didn't even blink in his direction, but heard every movement of his body, and felt his toes brush Zoro's shin as he arranged himself. "Oh. Well…I'm still testing the waters."

Sanji sighed. "I'll settle for that." He would have been a fool to press the issue, to demand answers to the questions Zoro knew he wanted to ask. 

But there was nothing else to do. He was just thinking, wondering, not even the post-coital smoke to distract his brain. He wondered, because there was nothing else to do, how long Zoro would be testing his waters. If things would really be changing. How long it would take them to mutate into whatever it was they were destined to be. 

"Hey." Sanji finally couldn't stand it any more. The silence, the nothing. 

"Mm?" 

"You love me, don't you?" 

Zoro didn't pause as long as Sanji would have expected before answering. "We're nakama." 

_Plus a little bit more, _Sanji heard Zoro's own words from weeks ago in his mind. The 'little bit more' was throbbing every muscle in his body, exhausting every bit of energy, making his breath burn and rasp as it curdled in his belly. "Not that I care," he finally added, but knowing that Zoro knew better than to believe him, "I'm just wondering."

"I know," Zoro's tone was simple and placating, "I just don't have an answer. Good thing you don't care." 

"You're baiting me."

"You're surprised?" 

"Not really." 

"I need to start getting ready for tomorrow. I'm gonna take a nap first, okay?" 

Sanji propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Zoro splayed himself, casually naked on the sand, hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and, as expected, was motionless within moments. 

"Baka," Sanji finally whispered to himself, a smile dancing on his lips as he watched the hypnotic motion of Zoro's sleeping chest, rising and falling with such efficient rhythm. He chuckled to himself, and sat up, wondering all the things he hadn't thought to ask Zoro, as distracted as he had been by the 'l' word entering the scene, "I wonder if you liked it." He whispered, leaning his chin into his hands, still smiling. 

The odd, drug-like state of happiness that seized his mind was too encouraging to waste. He rose to his feet and set off to gather his clothes, hoping again that Armerind was watching as he strode triumphantly from the pleasantly sleeping body of his lover. _Loving a swordsman…_ he thought to himself, _it's probably not as bad as he makes it seem. After all, if I didn't have Zoro to keep me in check, the balance of the universe itself might be disrupted. I might be grasping at a straw, but it's good a reason as any to have faith. _

~*~*~*~

In the hours that passed, his peace of mind only built, even after Zoro awoke from his nap, all the afternoon until dusk began to settle in the sky. Wishing away any nervousness, pleased that the wish was all it took, he wiled away an hour or two fishing, determined to cook something more meticulously than what he had thrown together earlier that day. For minutes at a time he would glance over and raise an eyebrow at Zoro, who seemed to be overcompensating in his practice, as if having only one sword somehow made him weak. With a motherly, chastising voice in his head, Sanji thought, _well maybe if you hadn't been so determined to fight that Mihawk guy, you wouldn't have to lie in this bed…_When actually, he was more than a little concerned at Zoro's lacking. Skillful, strong, and dauntless though he was, Sanji knew Zoro wasn't as resourceful as all that. How long had it been since the _san-tou-ryu_ master had even considered practicing a killing blow with only one sword? Sanji sighed and stared down at the marinade simmering fragrantly over the fire. He wouldn't let that get to him. Surely Zoro knew what he was doing. 

The sun was beginning the sink over the rocky hills, not quite large enough to call mountains, when Armerind reappeared at their camp. 

He was wearing a white scarf on his head, beneath which his unruly black curls still poked out in all directions. A tattered, animal-skin coat hung loosely from his arms, dusting his ankles. A smug smile was on his face, as usual; the ash-marks on his cheeks were smudged. It was obvious that his day was drawing to a close. 

In his arms, he carried a heavily wrapped bundle, a hemp tie flapping in the wind as he held it out to whoever would take it first. Zoro remained where he was, between Armerind and Sanji, caught in the middle of his thousandth thrusting blow. They were windward from the smoke of the campfire. Armerind coughed at it, but only slightly; still politely.

"Don't eat the mushrooms," he said curtly, "every variety I've found on this island is either poisonous or might as well be, they taste so awful." 

Sanji sneered, and flipped one of the filets, letting the other side sizzle loudly as he growled, "Don't worry." 

"I brought an offering. Just to make things fair. I don't believe an artist is as effective outside of his practiced medium." 

The bundle in his arms remained untouched. Sanji looked over, hazarding a glance from Armerind in order to witness Zoro's reaction. His white katana was still aloft, still in the middle of an exercise that wouldn't be interrupted by someone as unimportant as Armerind. "What's that supposed to mean?" He huffed, exerted in a way that anyone could see.

"I won't bother you any further. You are not obligated to accept my gift." Armerind knelt gracefully, and laid the bundle in the sand, near where the grass began to grow and lead into the jungle. Just then, kneeling politely in his head wrap and long coat, he looked like a genuinely kind, subdued sort of man. Sanji wondered at his psychology for not the first time. It worried him, even to wonder about such a person, mired in his own consciousness and living so long with only the strength of a single ambition to drive him. Not even the distraction of an acquaintance or a hobby. Only striving, only preparing. As his skin shuddered and goose bumps began to rise, Sanji removed the fish from the fire and gnashed his teeth. 

"Get lost, we're about to eat." 

Zoro lowered his sword and straightened his posture, turning to look in his direction. "Sanji…" he began, but only sighed in frustration. Then, Sanji heard Armerind chuckle.

"I see. I won't take any more of your time together. I understand now the depth of your commitment to one another, and far be it from me to intrude on—"

"I said get lost." Sanji said, louder, picking up a butcher knife and wielding it impressively, spinning it twice in his hand before bringing it down over the end of a lemon. He never looked over, not even to see if Zoro was scowling at his childish standoffishness.

Armerind didn't even respond. Sanji waited in silence, slicing the lemon under his hand as thin as he could, prolonging the chore until he heard Zoro stepping lightly across the sand. Finally, he was shadowed from behind. "A few more minutes and I might not have even been the one to fight him." Zoro smirked down at him. 

Sanji leaned back, falling against Zoro's knees and cradling his head between them. Expression softening, he looked up, and tried his best to smile. "He pisses me off." 

"Hey, we have that in common." 

Though Sanji noticed that his hand hesitated for just a moment, Zoro ruffled his hair playfully. 

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sanji flailed for a moment, nearly upsetting the bottle of cooking wine by his feet as he kicked out, reached up, and dug his fingers into Zoro's hand, cutting short the injustice being done to his hair. 

Zoro laughed, his spirits obviously high, and fell to his knees. He pulled Sanji close from behind, and nuzzled his face into the upset blonde head with a cheerful "Mmmm…!" 

It almost made him giggle, the tickling sensation of Zoro's breath in his hair, and he relaxed against the embrace. "Gotta finish dinner." He said simply, loose and gangly in the other man's arms, sinking almost completely against the sand with his knees pointed high. 

"I know," Zoro patted him lightly on the belly, "and I'm hungry, so make it quick." 

He tried, but his mind kept wandering, distracting him, making him angry as it kept him from his usually unflappable culinary process. For the first few minutes he paid more attention to Zoro, wondering if he was going to open Armerind's package, but after those minutes he made himself forget it. 

By the time he looked up at Zoro next, the package was open, and Zoro was holding two unfamiliar, pristine katanas in his hands, with his usual white one cradled protectively in his lap. 

"He gave you swords." Sanji remarked flatly.

Zoro didn't respond. His mind was focused on examining them, probing them for weaknesses. He leveled them with his eyes, ran his thumb over the blunt edges, threw a rock into the air and sliced through it with a criss-cross swipe of the blades. Finally, he sighed. "Is it time to eat yet?"

A complimentary word may have been too much to ask, but Sanji knew that Zoro appreciated the more refined meal waiting for him, even if it was a silent appreciation. They ate quietly for a while, Zoro's ravenous consumption the only indicator that he was enjoying the meal. Otherwise, his face stayed pinched in a battle-ready expression, wall-eyed and waiting for something that wasn't really scheduled to come until the next day. 

"Only for the duel, of course," He finally said, taking Sanji completely off guard, so much that his teacup rattled in his hand at Zoro's voice, "I'm not keeping his damned swords. I don't need any charity from him." 

"It won't be charity if you take them from him after he's dead." 

"I don't want to kill him, Sanji," Zoro said bluntly, as if that fact should have been more than obvious, "he's just like I was, only a little while ago. He's so convinced and so headstrong. It'd be a shame to have him die right now. If Mihawk had killed me…it would be the same as what you're suggesting."

Sanji clenched his teeth and held back the curse he wanted to mutter at the mention of Mihawk. "You haven't seen him fight yet. He may be better than you're giving him credit for."

"Yes, I'm expecting that."

Not quite sure what to say in response, Sanji paused. Finally, he lifted his teacup and muttered through the steam, "Well I'm glad he gave you those swords." 

"So am I, I guess." 

"I suppose it would make you feel more confident." 

"No. It just convinces me that he's honorable," sensing that there was something else he was going to add, Sanji waited for Zoro to continue, "I don't need help with my confidence." 

Sanji smirked, and twisted another lemon slice into his tea. 

~*~*~*~

"You're not tired, are you?" 

"Of course I'm not tired."

Zoro smiled, though lazily. "You're tired. It's written all over your face. You can't go on, you're about to pass out." 

"Baka! You're confusing me with you again." Sanji panted between words, grateful for Zoro's arms holding him up as he slumped against his chest, cozily situated in his lap. 

He had never even known he was capable of lasting this long. There had been nights when he had been tempted, or even left longing for more, but never had he been taunted, dared, egged on into continuing. _I should've known, _he thought, enjoying the timid moment as they both waited for the next wind to seize them, _that he'd be the one to bring it out of me._

After sundown they'd pitched a second tent, fearing another night rain would inhibit their sleep even if it only seemed to enhance their lovemaking. But as the night progressed, and the rain began to fall in a tentative drizzle that made music on the tent's canvas, sleep seemed to be the least of their concerns. 

"You're sure you don't want to sleep?" Sanji gasped, not meaning to, but unable to catch his breath. 

"I knew it. You're tired." 

"I'm not!" Sanji pulled back and shoved Zoro in the chest, letting himself topple back with a scowl. He lay there in front of Zoro, legs thrown out on either side of his hips, indignation all over his face, "I just don't want you blaming me tomorrow if you're not prepared." 

"I can sleep tomorrow. The duel's not until sundown." Zoro smiled, reached between them, and cupped Sanji's balls gently. As his face flushed, Sanji threw his head back and groaned. The interim between go-rounds was just long enough to keep his body at a constant state of agitation, just long enough to keep him from going numb or passing out from the pure relentlessness of Zoro's sex drive.

The most incredible moment had passed in the previous hour, after a length of time that Sanji wasn't quite apt to determine. Zoro, ever eager to extract even the slightest moment of weakness from him, had traveled him so slowly, his hands and mouth all that mattered for all those minutes, all those long, endless minutes. Probing him, tickling him, licking him in every hidden, shuddering place. But never where it mattered most, and Zoro knew this. He kept it up, torturously, slower and slower, until Sanji couldn't stand it anymore. His cock twitched dark and dripping as Zoro's slick and sandpaper tongue grazed his nipples meticulously, forcing Sanji to cry out and beg him – _beg him, _he thought with secretly exultant humiliation – to touch it. 

He could try to count, as low as the numbers were, but somehow he couldn't exactly be sure of how many times he had come tonight, in Zoro's mouth, in his body, between them or on his knees as Zoro fucked him, again and again. He never seemed to be as desperate and determined as Sanji was; the stamina just seemed to be natural, unending, absolutely mind-boggling.

_After all, _Sanji writhed, exhausted but begging for just one more time, which would turn into another, and another, he knew, _I was the one who asked him to make love to me, all night long. I forgot how seriously he takes things. _

_But I know he's just testing me, _he looked up and licked his lips, eyes half-lidded as he panted, and felt Zoro's hand slide over his hardening cock, gently coaxing it, training it, _this is just another one of our competitions. I'm glad it's so much more delicious than all of those others, though. _

"You know," he breathed, his body humming like a live wire on the ground, his legs squirming around Zoro's hips, "if you eat more vegetables, it makes it taste better." 

Zoro lifted one eyebrow. "Are you saying I don't taste good?" The way he sounded so challenging, Sanji almost wanted to say 'no' and face whatever consequences were planned. 

"Hm. I forget. Let me check again," He smiled, searching his mouth for the bitter taste of Zoro that might be left behind. Zoro regarded his cheeky answer with a smirk, "I'm serious though. Makes it a little sweet." 

"Has this been confirmed?" 

Sanji was a little bit embarrassed to be quizzed on something so silly, especially in his vulnerable state, but he rolled his eyes and shrugged, trying to distract attention from his blush, "I've just heard." 

"You eat a lot of vegetables." 

"…and?" He was obviously eager to know.

"Not that I have anything to compare it to, but I'm not displeased." Zoro was holding back, Sanji knew. 

"Mmmm…" he reached up over his head, smiling, stretching, enjoying the little mini-orgasmic feeling as his shoulders relaxed. He brought his hands down and half-hid his face, peeking up coyly as he asked, "make me come with your hands." 

"Oh, you like that, do you?" Zoro preened. 

"Mm-hmmm…" 

"If I do this," Zoro began, sliding two fingers inside of Sanji without hesitation, "will you do something for me?" 

"Anything." Sanji whispered, but it was only the impulse of the moment. Really, he didn't want to make such a promise. He didn't want to do anything Zoro wanted. He wouldn't want to turn a blind eye. He wouldn't want to stop caring. But there was the urgency of now, pushing him toward believing that nothing else mattered, that anything could happen between the slippery union of their bodies tonight and the clash of four swords tomorrow. 

"Watch the sunrise with me." 

To hear Zoro ask something like that almost made him want to laugh. But beneath the schoolboy amusement his heartstrings were indeed tugged. "What if it's still raining?" 

Feverish heat was rising to his cheeks again, and he couldn't suppress his reactions as Zoro stroked and fingered him, pushing him toward yet another way-too-satisfying orgasm. "It won't be." 

But it was. Hours passed in hot, sweating solitude, and Zoro and Sanji heard nothing but the pitter-patter of pensive rain on top of their tent, even as a lightness began to dawn outside, subdued by shades of gray. Between gasps, maybe they made up their minds to stay where they were, but whatever the case, they collapsed at last, both declaring without saying outright that they were far too exhausted to go on. The competition, Sanji assumed, they would be calling a draw.

"Hey," Sanji elbowed Zoro, not willing at all to let him fall asleep first.

"Mm." 

"I'll watch tomorrow's sunrise with you, okay?" Sanji said, his point taken though it may have been subtle. 

Zoro actually seemed grateful for his words as he threw his arm over Sanji and sank into the pillow face-first. "Sounds great." 

Neither presumed to care, but Sanji would always wonder who really did fall asleep first, after that. 


	10. Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Curious thoughts and the presence of Zoro's calmly embracing body compelled Sanji to stay abed, even when his eyes wrenched open after a scarce five or six hours of sleep. The steel-gray cast of the sky still inhibited the noonday sun from warming the tent, but the rain outside had made it muggy, steamy, difficult to breathe. Sanji whistled through his nose in the outright silence, comfortable to have Zoro's heavy arm thrown slack over his stomach, not even put off in the least to hear him begin to snore every now and again. This was comfort and absolution. This was Sanji's paradise, as long as All Blue eluded him. Sometimes his heart sank when he dwelt too much on cynicism, wondered if his legendary sea really didn't exist at all. Sometimes he wondered if he should be looking for his backup plan, his dream in reality. 

He glanced over. His dream in reality wasn't Zoro, exactly; it wasn't this peaceful shared moment on its own. It was the mixture of all things, all the synchronicity and adventure that had led them here, and the prospect of what was to come. It was knowing that, in addition to Zoro, the others were always there. Luffy to inspire him, Nami to enchant him, Ussop to be as childish as he sometimes wanted to be, himself.

Still, he hoped for his ocean, his All Blue, just as Zoro took great lunging steps toward his own lofty ambition. The _Going Merry_ had once been the means to an end, but now it was the place where he knew he belonged. The comfort he faced, though nervously considering his vocal misgivings, was that Zoro belonged there, too. That, even after the once-looming wall of their goals had been faced, they would turn back around, and find themselves there. Theirs was not a crew of miscreants that were bound to go their separate ways in the end. They all knew that, while never exactly saying as much. 

Sanji drifted back to sleep, a luxury he was rarely afforded (being the one to cook breakfast every morning had that disadvantage). He stole another few hours of peaceful slumber, eyes fluttering open every hour or so, but never quite waking again, not until he stretched out to find that Zoro wasn't next to him anymore. 

The blanket they had been sharing seemed heavy and unruly now, as he sat up and blinked into the muted daylight invading through the open tent flap. Zoro's bare back faced him, the swordsman half dressed and sitting cross-legged at the head of their makeshift homestead. Sanji felt a bit of dampness on his face, and noticed a few drying splash-spots on the blanket. The rain must have continued, all through the day, flying into the tent, wetting him like whispered kisses. 

The first question he asked was the most obvious one. "Do you know what time it is?" 

"No way of knowing." Zoro responded without turning around. _He probably heard me wake up, _Sanji thought with a smirk, always impressed by Zoro's coldness whenever it didn't insult him, "I'm waiting for him." 

"Are you ready?" Sanji asked, clutching the blanket to his chest, a bit chilled by the gentle invasion of the rain, the cooling whoosh of the wind outside. 

Zoro turned his head without moving another muscle, and glanced back over his shoulder at Sanji. Without a word he made his position on the matter very clear, a subtly raised eyebrow and a sterile, deadly serious expression doing all the talking.

"Of course you are. Sorry I asked." Sanji replied with a flippant sigh. Zoro turned away again.  

He fell back onto the pillow, and stretched out in all directions, yawning and arching his back, calming the tightly wound little pockets of nerves all over his body. For the longest time he just stared at the arch of the tent above him, arms and toes sticking out from beneath the blanket, exposed to the delightfully gentle elements. 

"Sanji, I…" Zoro began, and Sanji nearly sat up at once. He stopped himself, and settled for simply clutching the blanket. When the voice didn't continue, Sanji found himself only a little disappointed. 

"Mm-hmm?" He tried not to sound as eager as he was, to hear Zoro say something without provocation. Something to him. Now that they were alone. Now that they were lovers. 

Zoro sighed. His back articulated the sad, fluid motion of it, as he hung his head and exhaled. "I don't want you to be there." 

Shock wallowed in his stomach for a while, before he could even think of a suitable answer. "You'd let Luffy be there."

If he had crossed the line with that, he was glad. It had been his intention. The muscles of Zoro's back tightened then, and he turned to bark, "Damnit, Sanji, that's not fair!"

"Okay, then pretend for a minute that I'm not fucking you. Pretend we're nothing more than what we were two months ago. Yell at me, make fun of me, get mad at me, and pretend that's all there is!" He clenched his fists and tried to keep expressing himself; calmly, with at least a little decorum, "why can't you trust me? Why can't you trust me to do what I said I'd do? ….wouldn't do, rather."

"Because I know you." Zoro picked up a twig, snapped it in two, and pitched it into the dark, damp sand outside.

"Fucker," Sanji growled, "it's not like I wouldn't miss this fight for the world or anything, I don't even know if it's going to be anything to write home about. But if you go alone and leave me here then you'd _better _die, because I'd just kill you when you got back." 

"Oh, those are strong words. Coming from your dominant personality, I take it?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Where it had been simply muggy and hard to breathe before, the air inside the tent was now stifling, suffocating. Sanji wanted out. 

"Come on," Zoro scoffed, "you can act all blustery like this as much as you want, but don't forget how many times you've broken down in front of me."

"At least it's better than not showing my emotions at all!" 

Zoro didn't even bother with questioning his meaning. He just shook his head, and painted his face with that bleak, mild, slightly disappointed expression. Sanji's heart strained, ached, so near to breaking at that point. "Just forget it. You wanna come, then fine. But if you so much as take one step into my fight—"

"I get it!" Sanji shouted, his voice suddenly raging and strident. It quieted Zoro, at least, even as the shock of the moment settled, "listen, what do you want me to say?"

"I just want you to do what I asked you, for once."

"Oh, come on, you know me too well to even HOPE for that." He smirked, actually, fighting back his still-boiling adrenaline as much as he could. Zoro narrowed his eyes, obviously not amused. 

Before he could think of a reply, and before Sanji could fire back a barb to stop it in its tracks, the butt of a longsword suddenly drew back the tent flap, and Armerind's face appeared, glistening with rain, at the entrance. 

"Lover's spat?" he asked plainly, mockingly.

Zoro said nothing, but Sanji read every instinct of destruction and hatred in his eyes as he pushed to his feet and lurched out of the tent, grabbing his shirt and haramaki on the way.

Armerind kept his eyes on Sanji, smirking ever-so-slightly once Zoro had joined him. "Feel free to get dressed, but we won't wait up." 

Even with the growl as he tugged his clothes on angrily, even with the bile at the back of his throat, he was overwhelmed by nothing but the proud, blinding, ultimately calming feeling of that thing called love. 

_Roronoa Zoro. Damn that intolerable bastard, _he thought to himself, throwing back the tent flap as he walked out, as if convinced that, by sheer force of will, it would slam behind him.  

~*~*~*~

The air smelled of jasmine where Armerind led them, a pungent scent that managed to waft between the raindrops and perfume the scene all around them. They found themselves on a clearing by the lake-top hill, only a few yards from the bluff where they had watched the first night's festivities together. A view of the jungle's rainy, wind-swept canopy stretched out below them, broken only by the not-so-distant blue of the ocean's expanse. Sanji crushed little white weed-blossoms under his heels as he walked through the long grass behind the other two men, scowling to himself. 

"There are only a few herbivores in this jungle, where there are mammals at all; the goats, for some reason, continue to breed on these hilltops, and live a remarkably unhindered lifestyle. They graze on this grass, and I've found their milk an indispensable source of protein." Armerind explained, though Sanji wondered why he couldn't simply keep his anecdotes short. The more he learned about this island, the more Sanji wanted to leave, and be back on the sea where the air was never this heavy and still.  

Long grass stopped swishing against his knees, and he stepped into the patchy expanse of grazing ground. He heard a few hooves and bleats retreating from their presence, but that was somewhere in the distance, under shelter from the rain. 

"Is this all right?" Armerind asked politely, already drawing his sword. Sanji was suddenly less than terrified, knowing and reminding himself that the islander's blade had never yet tasted blood. Zoro's, by contrast, had swum in it. The affinity was acquired, and somehow Sanji knew both the white sword and its master had an unnatural magnetism for leaving a trail of crimson behind them. 

He smirked in confidence, and kept his place at the edge of the long grass.

"This is fine." Zoro responded, and prepared himself for the duel as if the process was an excruciatingly tedious routine. Katana clenched between his teeth, he tied the cloth at the back of his head, knotting it quickly with only the slightest, most indeterminate glance in Sanji's direction. Sanji gulped and pursed his lips in on each other. He could suddenly feel the rush of memory and the taste of that thing in his mouth. Hesitantly, he stared down at the ground, searching the grass as his mind swam with inappropriate recollections. This was supposed to be a somber time, a tense moment. 

_But it's not wrong to admit that this side of him was always what you saw, always what you wanted, always what drew you in from the beginning…_ he told himself, gulping back a nervous breath as he glanced up again. He set his jaw firmly, and leveled his brow. His expression appropriately somber, he interrupted the moment with a curtness that only such uninhibited desire could defend, "Hey." 

Zoro was clutching all three swords when he looked over, completely ready to fight but not so far gone to ignore him. Seeing that his presence was not forgotten, Sanji smirked smugly. "Make this quick." 

Voice roughly mottled behind the gag of the handle against his tongue, Zoro growled back, "I will." The corners of his mouth were upturned, making the grin of his teeth around the sword something wholly terrifying and sadistic. His eyes were shadowed and sharp, darkly unforgiving but sparkling with something tenacious and wild. Sanji's heart thumped, and he barely took a moment to take pity on Armerind for picking such an unfortunate fight. 

_This side of him…_ Sanji thought again, as Armerind tossed the sheath of his longsword back into the grass, and bent his knees in a precarious stance. _I don't want him to ever take this away….I was a fool for ever suggesting it. _

It was the adrenaline driving him, the heat of the passionate prelude driving away all fears and doubts. His late-night insecurities would never have agreed to this careening, runaway confidence, but he didn't care about those right now. Zoro wasn't going to lose. That sort of thing just wasn't meant to happen.

Armerind sprang forward and Zoro followed quickly. Neither had actually agreed to begin the duel, but Sanji knew the moment had been waiting to arrive since they had first laid eyes on each other. They were rivals before they had even met, and their confrontation had simply been biding its time, choosy about the perfect moment. 

In this, the perfect moment, the flash of steel through rain was suddenly marred in its silver simplicity by a flare of red. Sanji tensed and searched, too far away to discern right away just what had happened. The first exchange of blows couldn't possibly have been deadly, could it? 

_No…_ his heart suddenly sank, _Armerind didn't train for all these years to be bested in less than five seconds. _

The moment cleared and two figures stumbled into place. Sanji searched out the damage, finding Armerind, finding no blood on his clothes, or his wet, white scarf. It was already washing from his blade, flushed away by the rain. A tiny reflection of blood, catching the light, suddenly making sense in Sanji's head. 

_Armerind's sword. Zoro's blood. _

Gasping, he looked over, and saw Zoro stagger. But only for a moment. 

In the next instant, their steel crossed again. And again. Sanji couldn't even make casual sense of the fight, watching with all his might for the flash of a white scarf, or the glint of Zoro's sadistic smile. But the rain was falling harder, blocking him from noticing, even as his racing thoughts made comprehending more and more difficult. 

This physically unspectacular, all-around demure fellow was doing this, drawing Zoro's blood and fighting all three swords at such close range? Sanji shook his head and squinted, even as rain fell over his forehead, through his eyebrows, nearly blinding him. Clinking and heaving followed throaty battle cries and the wet, plopping sound of feet against soggy ground. Sanji found himself stepping closer. 

_I won't interfere, _he told himself, promising himself, even as he came within earshot of the combat, _I can't do that. But I just have to see. _

He was quick, and he was graceful. Armerind eluded every move of Zoro's with the confidence and agility of  a cat. Ducking and swooping, pouncing and jumping, he kept so close that Zoro, with all his expertise, didn't seem to have the slightest clue how to handle it. Between those deft maneuvers of elusion, Sanji noticed, Armerind's sword kept cutting. 

There were twin rivers of red staining the sides of Zoro's shirt, and upon further inspection the source seemed to be a pair of unnervingly precision cuts at the tendons of his shoulders. 

_He's not a strength fighter, not particularly, but he certainly knows what he's doing_. Sanji thought, aghast, wondering what other wounds he couldn't yet see. Wondering where Armerind's blade would slice next.

It wasn't as if the white scarf wasn't stained in blood, either; Armerind had received his own fair share of blows by the time the two staggered back to regroup, to rethink their strategies, possibly to contemplate the delivery of a killing blow. But Zoro was worse for wear, and Sanji was, to say the least, surprised. Every step seemed heavy, every motion caused a wince. But Armerind, forehead dripping blood and chest deeply wounded, only smiled, and positioned himself carefully, ready to defend whatever attack Zoro was planning as he suffered in something that wasn't yet defeat. 

_And that's all that matters_, Sanji continued to tell himself. _He isn't defeated yet._

_This is nothing to worry about. _

_So why are my knees shaking like this?_

He wiped his nose of the rain, and breathed heavily, narrowing his eyes at Zoro. _You'd better win, _he wanted to remind him, as harshly and desperately as he could, _you can keep your sunrise and your kisses and your stupid fuck-buddy state of mind, just win this goddamn thing already. _

Suddenly, Zoro let out a battle cry and thundered forward, his swords slicing raindrops in half as they flailed out, arcing toward Armerind. Sanji only noticed the islander smirk with a confidence that turned his blood cold, before everything started to move in slow motion. 

It was Zoro's Onigiri; Sanji recognized it by now. But not even halfway into the attack, Armerind launched at him, sword outstretched, somehow twisting his body into a perfect crouch that avoided all three of Zoro's blades. Sanji couldn't breathe, couldn't react, couldn't even think. Because it all happened in the space of a moment, yet his mind stretched the realization to eternal lengths. He saw the sword connect, somewhere between Zoro's heart and his stomach, and watched Armerind thrust with all his might, grimacing and wrenching his fist forward until the blade tore through the other side of Zoro, blood following in a tiny trickle that wasn't half as momentous as Sanji expected. 

Sanji's knees hit the ground, as Zoro threw his head back, and lost control of all three swords in his carriage. As Sanji's entire body struggled to find a solid place, a peaceful place that didn't feel like shivers or sand through his veins, Zoro's hit the ground, driven in by Armerind's sword. 

Armerind stood above him, just watching. 

Zoro made a sound that suggested the pain might be more than anyone was imagining. Sanji, from his safe distance, watched his limbs delicately convulse, watched his eyes glaze over with unspent tears of furious exertion. He'd never heard Zoro make those sounds of weakness and fright, and largely doubted that anyone had. 

At this angle, with this moment of torturous stillness, he was free to find that none of the wounds Armerind had dealt were fatal; not on their own. But each and every cut, from the thumbnail incisions below his kneecaps, to the clips against his neck on either side, was incapacitating in its own way. Sanji held a hand to his mouth. It was almost too much to witness, Armerind pinning him down, broad blade stuck between his ribs, fastening him to the dirt. Zoro didn't even dare to squirm, and Sanji wondered what organs had ruptured, what horrible injury was causing the blood to trickle from his no-longer-grinning mouth. He coughed, and blood splattered up to fleck across Armerind's chest. 

But Armerind refused to move, keeping his sword firmly ground into Zoro's…..whatever. Gall bladder. Spleen. Could it even be in his stomach? Sanji felt something disgusting and instinctive pushing at the back of his throat, and he knew he probably wouldn't be able to stave off vomiting. Zoro was in worse shape than he had ever been, and with this scene before him…the incessant wondering where that sword was staying, what sort of pain his lover was in…brought sympathy pangs of nausea to his entire body. 

But he gulped it back, somehow, and whispered. "Zoro…"

"You wondered, why the books in my home, if I am not a doctor?" Armerind heaved, blood dripping from his own wounds to mingle into Zoro's. Suddenly, he yanked the sword out, and Zoro rocked the foundation of Betoni Island with a blood-curdling yell. Too paralyzed with pain to move, yet involuntary shivers from his body continued to aggravate the wound. Sanji bit his bottom lip, and watched as Armerind stepped back, flicking the blood from the blade, ceremoniously onto the grass. "Every wound you gave me was superficial. On the other hand, I have pierced your liver. You will probably die of toxic epilepsy within a day without medical attention, if you don't bleed to death first. I would have disemboweled you, but that's not a fitting death for a warrior of your caliber." 

He smirked cruelly, and suddenly Sanji feared something even worse was on its way. Every word was like fire to his heart, behind his eyes as he blinked, making him dizzy, weak. What else was coming? What else would he possibly be expected to handle, now that his worst dream was coming true, right in front of his eyes? 

With a shuddering sigh he again faced the prospect of that night alone, and clenched his fists in denial. 

"Besides," Armerind began again, "there's another weapon of yours I would like very much to see." 

He glanced up, subtly through his loose-hanging, blood-matted black hair, and locked eyes with Sanji. 

The blood dropped to Sanji's feet, every cell in his body suddenly tingling with the burning, ardent need to spring toward Armerind and dole out some retaliation. Something. Anything. He wanted to do it, he wanted to kill him. Or he wanted to die trying. 

But he didn't. 

"Fuck you." He mumbled, breathing harder, shifting his feet a little, trying not to look down at Zoro and trying to deny the tears forming behind his eyes. 

"You're his nakama. Actually, you're _more _than his nakama, aren't you?" That smug, insufferable smirk. Sanji felt so dirty suddenly, for having even allowed Zoro to accept this duel. For having not done away with Armerind when he first had the chance. For being too weak to protect him in the first place. Every nuance of understanding and honor he shared for Zoro's ambition was suddenly gone. Suddenly, nothing belonged. He would only feel better when Zoro was holding him again, when Luffy and the others were warming him with their closeness, waiting by the bedside together as…as…

_Zoro isn't going to die. He isn't. He can't. He told me that wouldn't happen. _

He wanted so badly to kill this man. 

"You can save him," Armerind said flatly, inverting his sword and lifting it high. He lifted a foot, too, and brought it down firmly on the spot of Zoro's abdomen that was seeping and pooling and spilling over with blood. Zoro howled, and the sound stung Sanji's ears in a way he couldn't have imagined, not even in his most bone-chilling nightmares about this sort of moment. 

The point of Armerind's sword angled down at Zoro's neck. The way he held his hands, gripping the handle to its base, suggested that he was ready to drive the blade in with enough force to sever his spine. 

Sanji flinched, but still managed to keep his hands, his feet, his entire body at the whims of his reluctant compromise. 

"I'm waiting," Armerind gritted his teeth and growled, almost smiling, "will you try to save him, and rush to your own death? Because trust me," his eyes flashed, and Sanji saw something much deeper, much more terrifying, but for only a second, "I will not hesitate to kill you." 

The hate that coursed through Sanji's veins was throbbing now, wanting to break out. The terrible fear – the wanting. Everything wanted to do something wrong, something to break his promise. 

_It wasn't really a promise. I only said I would try. _He clenched his fist, still knowing he wouldn't use it, and felt his eyes cloud with anger. _I can still save him. I can interfere and save his life – or die trying. So what if he's hate me later? At least…at least there's a chance he'd be alive. _

_And I can't watch him die. He told me he wouldn't. _

He choked, and growled. 

Then he heard Zoro's voice, however faint, however gurgled by blood and bile. "Sanji….don't…"

"I still believe he can beat you." His breath was forced, his tone was dry and raspy, but somehow his heart made him say it without hesitation, staring right into Armerind's face. 

Armerind was not visibly stunned, but Sanji could sense his heart rate jumping, the sweat breaking out on his forehead. "I think he can kill you."

Every time he said it, every time he even thought it, his resolve strengthened, and his faith in Zoro became solid again, that much stronger. He could beat back the hate, it he tried. He would try to believe. He could keep trying until the very end, because, after all….Zoro wasn't going to die. 

_He told me he wouldn't. _

"I don't need to fight you off to be his weapon," Sanji took a deep breath, whistled through his nose, and searched for the absolutely perfect tone to say it, to communicate it with all the seriousness he felt in that moment, "my love is enough." Though he risked provoking Armerind further, he felt the need to add, "and that's a power you'll never have, train as hard as you like."

The islander's eyes were wide, white on all sides, his dark brown irises dwarfed in the center. His entire face showed coldness, shock. Sanji hadn't meant to cause such an expression, but no guide book had laid out Armerind's reactions from the very beginning. There was still so much Sanji didn't want to know about him; so many demons he knew he couldn't even imagine. 

A growl rose from Armerind's throat, and though he had listened to every word Sanji knew he hadn't wanted to hear it. Perhaps he had been waiting at a crossroads, and Sanji's reaction dictated his path. Whatever the case, he began to scream, a thundering, implacable sort of scream, as he lifted his sword in preparation for his final strike. 

Sanji's heart stopped for a moment, but he still willed himself to be paralyzed. 

Half a second passed. _Please, Zoro…_

Tears were coming from Armerind's eyes, but Sanji didn't even notice them until he stopped. He stopped, and weakened his arms. It took a moment for Sanji to realize what had happened, so intent his eyes had been on not even drifting toward Zoro's supine body. He hadn't even heard the clash of swords when Zoro lifted his katana to sweep away Armerind's death blow. 

Armerind let his sword fall away, useless, and heaved breath. 

"Zoro." Sanji didn't even know why he was whispering, why he was speaking at all. Somehow he needed to hear Zoro's name, needed to remind himself that this was still reality, that anything could still change in the blink of an eye. 

With a straining groan, Zoro lifted one booted foot and thrust it up, heavily into Armerind's stomach. Armerind stumbled back, and seemed magically brought back to his senses. He coughed once, and seized his sword, holding it at the ready with both hands as Zoro began to rise. 

When he was halfway to his feet, Armerind moved forward again, and tried to strike him over the back of the neck. But Zoro managed to block even this, his arm shaking and dripping with the red-stained rain that washed over his skin. Still grunting and whimpering in indignant pain, he struggled to his feet, blood simply pouring from the hole torn straight through his body. He swayed a little, but found his footing. Sanji held his breath. The rain was slowing, drizzling, and thunder rolled high overhead. Fleetingly, Sanji wondered what the weather was like on the Grand Line.

"You'll pass out." Armerind warned him. 

"Can't." Zoro replied with a rasping breath, and blocked yet another drop of the now-familiar longsword that continued to fall upon him. 

Armerind was just toying with him, enjoying the process of torture as he drew more and more strength from Zoro. Their swords clinked at an irregular pace, broken more by the sounds of exertion now. 

_You're so close, _he yelled at Zoro inside of his mind, _don't you dare give up now. Don't let him wear you down like this. I didn't bring you back to life for nothing, just then._

He dwelt on this musing. _Did I…do that? Were my words really that powerful?_

Everything he had said before, every doubt and insult and instinct of flight returned, and bombarded his memory. Perhaps he had never told Zoro how much he believed, but the time had never seemed right. In his head, as before, he had always expected Zoro to be like anyone else, fragile and weak-willed and able to die. But staring down the duel between the two men in the rain, smelling the jasmine and the blood, he knew there was nothing ordinary about it. Not about Zoro, their lives, or their love. Things that just couldn't be worried about before the moment. Other-worldly things, legendary things. Zoro wasn't going to die, because Sanji willed it. Not Armerind, or Mihawk, or anyone alive could ever hope to have that same power. 

_I love you, _Sanji thought in his mind, remembering how it felt to say it, to hear Zoro ask for it. He wondered again, whether that meant, without so many words, some reciprocation of the feeling. But then he remembered that Zoro didn't feel things the same way. He didn't worry, he didn't ponder, he didn't even succumb to the pain of a sword between his ribs. He couldn't possibly be expected to admit to love, even if the feeling was aching in his heart for months, even when it was far too late.   

Their swords were starting to scrape against each other, blows weaker and bodies heavier. Zoro had dropped his blades as the fight wore on, and all that remained was the single katana clutched in his hand, the fabric of the handle's wrap wet and tinted red. He weakly kicked aside one of Armerind's gift swords, and pressed back upon him, his motions no longer merely defensive.

He trailed blood wherever he moved. Sanji knew Armerind had been telling the truth. _Even my will isn't strong enough to keep him from bleeding to death but somehow…._ Somehow he knew, everything was going to be all right, as long as the fight was over. As long as Armerind learned the meaning of defeat. 

Being humbled could go a long way. Zoro knew that lesson far too well, and it was only karma for him to dole it back out. 

When he saw an opening, and Armerind left himself unguarded for the space of only a gasping breath, Zoro fell forward and tackled him, graceless and haphazard, closing his eyes as they fell to the ground with a tiny splashing sound. His wrist was shaking, gripping with every nerve and muscle that still responded to his willpower, and held the katana to Armerind's throat. 

"I won't kill you." He said, sprawled across him, motionless, numb. 

"Why not?" Armerind spat back, his tears indistinguishable from the rain. 

"I just won't." Zoro replied, and Sanji wasn't sure whether he was simply too weak to speak any more, or truly considered Armerind too unimportant to know his reasons. Whichever explanation, and either would have been valid, he sliced the thinnest cut through the skin below Armerind's throat, and collapsed.  

It was not the climactic ending that Sanji had envisioned or was used to, but it was an ending nonetheless. Armerind chose not to move, as well, but Sanji saw him blinking, his eyes open and staring up at the cloudy, grey kaleidoscope sky. 

His feet squished in the soft ground as he moved forward, fearing the worst even though he saw Zoro's body rising and falling with forceful breath. Silent, he met Armerind's eyes. There was nothing but shame, defeat in that gaze, cross disbelief oddly mixed with conscious acceptance. He pleaded with those eyes for the encounter to remain speechless, and so Sanji only bent down, found a place to harmlessly clutch Zoro's body, and lifted him free of Armerind. 

He would be living in a dream-world if, in any sense, he expected Zoro to not be deeply mortified at the thought of Sanji having to carry him back to camp. And so he resolved not to speak of it, not to mention a thing unless the subject came up, or Zoro noticed how much blood had made its way onto his clothes. With a roll of his eyes, Sanji took his mind away from his worries for a moment, and knew that no amount of laundering would ever get those stains out now. 

It wasn't fair having blood-stains all over his clothes if he didn't at least have the scars to show off to girls as a trade-off. 

~*~*~*~

Tea-smells filled the tent as Sanji dipped a bag of Chamomile in and out of a cup of fire-boiled water, hypnotized by his own movement. The rain had finally stopped, as had Zoro's bleeding. 

He was still unconscious, still breathing erratically, and Sanji had no idea what to do except wait. He had torn apart one of their blankets and dressed the wounds as best as he could, washing them with water from the lake, stitching what he could with a needle and thread, and trying his best to keep the bleeding at bay. He was not a doctor, he wasn't even an adequate nurse. But he had felt not a shred of annoyance or chore at taking care of Zoro. Maybe it was one of those duties of love, but he knew he would never have been so gentle and careful if the others had been around. If nothing else, he would have surely complained a lot more. 

He turned one hand in front of his face and stared intently. There was still blood under his fingernails. With a sigh, he pitched aside the teabag, and took a deep breath of the scented steam before drinking. He wondered how long Luffy, Nami, and Ussop would be unconscious. Armerind had said "a couple of days, maybe longer," but nothing concrete. If anyone woke up now, Sanji couldn't imagine the riot scene that would ensue. Zoro half-dead,  Sanji taking it in stride, knowing an intruder had drugged them for a few days and nights. It all looked like the makings of a melodramatic scene, and that was the last thing he wanted. All he wanted to do now was finish his tea and lay his head back on Zoro's chest, letting his heartbeat comfort him into sleep. He'd worry about what to do tomorrow, because there certainly wasn't anything more he could do tonight.

He made his tea weak and smooth, tempering it only slightly with half a teaspoonful of sugar. He preferred it with milk, really, but in their current surroundings he couldn't afford to be overly finicky. The quiet inside the tent made him more mindful of the way he sipped his tea, more careful not to make that coarse, slurping sound that didn't really bother any of his shipmates, but somehow still irked his sense of propriety. Only the sound of his lips on the glass, the wind outside, the far-off, muted night-sounds of the jungle. 

And then, there was the sound of a hand at the tent flap, scraping softly against the canvas in the best approximation of a knock. 

Somehow, he had known Amerind would come. And, for no reason at all that he could fathom, he had not feared or despised that thought. He had read Armerind's feelings in his eyes when they parted, and he saw everything smug and arrogant fade away like blood from a wound. What he had witnessed was a suddenly disenchanted man. For some reason, even though he still hated him, Sanji wanted to entertain his company for at least a few moments. His more sensitive side didn't want to come right out and say that it was for anything other than gloating, however. 

He raised up the tent flap and silently regarded Armerind's presence. He had cleaned up nicely since the last they had seen each other, and his hair was held back in little pins and ties and bands, causing little bundles of curls to stick up and out in odd, unnatural ways. But his face was clean, his wounds were bandaged, and he was wearing a patchwork robe that hid all the battle's damages. He limped slightly as he brought his arm around to produce a small apothecary case and a book tucked in the crook of his elbow, dogeared and dripping with pagemarks. 

Sanji didn't know what to say at first, but that didn't matter, because Armerind spoke for him. "He's going to die if you don't do anything, so let me look at him."

"You're saying you want to save his life?" Sanji replied gruffly, not quite trusting at the same time that he knew Armerind was his only hope at watching the sunrise with Zoro tomorrow morning. 

Armerind looked back at him, already inside the tent, already crouching next to Zoro. He stared, obviously offended by the subtle accusation, and Sanji felt momentarily guilty for his brusqueness. The broken softness on Armerind's face remained. The defeat had taken something away from his hardened conceit. Sanji had no reason to believe, now, that he wanted to do anything but what he could. The battle was already Zoro's, and there was no way he could get that back. 

He adjusted a bandage over his own eye as he touched the ones on Zoro's chest, and lower down his abdomen. "I don't know how he's still breathing, how he's still alive. It's a miracle." 

_No,_ thought Sanji, almost smiling, _it's just Zoro. _

Quickly, Armerind let the book thump onto the floor, and thumbed to a marked page. He skimmed over the text quickly and kept looking back at Zoro, kept checking random vital signs and prodding various patches of uninjured flesh. Finally, he looked up at Sanji and asked, "Would you help me? Please?"

It felt sort of the way it had felt to see Zoro run through. Almost. The blood rushed to his feet, and he felt a very subdued version of the same shock and reeling. Taking a step back to steady himself, he knew it wasn't wise to believe that Armerind had changed so much in only a few hours. But he did believe it. More than that, he heard it in his voice. And that was enough to bring his to his knees, open the islander's little apothecary chest, and answer, "Just tell me what to do." 

~*~*~*~

Sometime during the endless, meticulous procedures, while Armerind made herbal potions and spouted off words that Sanji couldn't possibly understand, he drifted to sleep. He knew that Armerind would wake him up if his aide was required, but by the time he opened his eyes, nudged back to consciousness, the intensive care was already dealt. 

"Just let him sleep. He'll be fine in a week or so. But you'll all probably leave before that." 

"What did you do?" Sanji asked, blinking, wetting his lips, trying to be alert for the information. 

"Secret." Armerind smiled softly, a certain sadness chasing the sparkle in his eyes. 

"Hn," Sanji didn't press the issue. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked back at Zoro, who was now much more professionally bandaged, looking particularly well-cared-for, "do you know when the others will wake up?" 

Armerind sighed, obviously a little hazy on that particular question. "They're all pretty thin, so the stuff really needs to work through them. Could be as early as tomorrow morning, but I wouldn't hold my breath." 

"I see. Thank you." 

Armerind gave pause at Sanji's gratitude, and stood up with his book and case in hand. "You're welcome." He said softly. As he began to leave, Sanji knew he needed to say something more. Words weren't easily his to offer, though. They never were. He was always the silent type, until he was provoked. All the emotions were wanting to express themselves to Armerind, but somehow his prejudice still stood in the way. Even if he saved Zoro life, he was still the one who had done this to him in the first place. 

It was such an unfair way to think, but Sanji couldn't help it. He supposed he was preparing himself for other opponents, Grand Line fighters who wouldn't be as forthcoming with help or mercy. 

One of the page-markers fell from Armerind's book and fluttered in the air, twirling twice before it floated toward the floor. "Hey," Sanji called out after the swordsman-cum-doctor, as he was ducking out of the tent. He turned half around, and Sanji reached for the small slip of paper, "you dropped something."

It was a photograph, he found, old and yellowed around the edges, pinholes and whitened fold-marks on the corners. The subject of the snapshot was a young girl, teenaged but too wide-eyed and round-cheeked to be anything over sixteen. Sanji stared a little too long, not sure whether it would be appropriate to comment on how pretty she was, with her strawberry-blonde hair and wide, cheerfully sharkish smile. Her eyelashes swept out and her summer dress was half a size too large, but when he stared at that photo Sanji somehow knew that he was staring at a ghost. 

Armerind snatched the photo from his hand, an air of sudden hostility taking over. "Thank you," he mumbled, opening the book and closing the photo back inside, "I would have hated to lose that." 

Sanji contemplated not saying anything at all, but it was a snap decision, mostly a product of not having a cigarette to suck on poignantly at such a moment, when he asked, "Who is she?" 

"Andi. She died." 

Armerind paused, and Sanji knew he didn't want to leave. But, even if he had been the one to find the photograph, the one to ask about it, he wasn't going to do anything more to prompt Armerind one way or another. Whether he wanted to uncover his secrets and let Sanji in on the reason why he screamed the way he did in battle, why he looked with so much contempt at their relationship, that was his decision. 

"She died trying to protect me."

Everything made sense without needing another explanation. Sanji could practically see the scene before Armerind set it. Because he had been in those shoes. And now he knew why Armerind had wanted him to interfere, had wanted to duel Zoro so exclusively. It wasn't the notoriety or the satisfaction. It was his need to take the life of someone's lover, someone's soul in place of Andi's. 

Sanji half-closed his eyes and looked down. "I'm sorry." 

They stewed in their shared silence, and Sanji didn't want to see if Armerind were angry or crying, or both. Neither did he know if it would be appropriate to thank him for renewing his perspective. He just looked down, sat against the side of the tent, and waited. 

"I didn't leave Coadari Village, I was driven out. By her father. By my own family. They hadn't approved of my fighting in the first place, much less the fact that, at sixteen, I was already good enough to duel every pirate that dropped anchor on the island. But when Andi died…their disapproval turned to hatred. I was exiled, reviled," his voice was rising like the memories to the top of his mind, pulling goosebumps up on Sanji's skin, "and worst of all, I didn't have her. I was all alone. I had loved her, I would have died for her, and I had told her to stay out of this part of my life. But she didn't. She just….didn't."

Sanji saw him lift a hand, heard a sniffle as Armerind wiped away the tears. He stayed silent. Whatever else Armerind had to say, he wondered if it would hit his heart so accurately as those last words had. Needing something to distract his nerves, he found a leaf and turned it between his fingers, feeling out its texture, its mercurial deadness. He sighed. 

"I've always felt so guilty, even to this day, for allowing her to fall in love with me in the first place. I thought it was a mistake that I let her get so close. I kept telling myself I should have kept her at arm's length, should have been as cold and hateful as I needed to be, anything that would have meant she would still be alive, today." 

Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Sanji unconsciously nodded in complete understanding. 

"We were foolish kids. We weren't even old enough to know what love was, but….still…." Armerind took a long, indefinite pause. Sanji glanced over, and saw him standing so still, so self-assured, that it made his distrust turn for a moment to actual admiration, "I'm so glad she loved me. If she had died any other way, and I had only hurt her, denied her, while wanting her to be there so badly…do you have any idea how that would have felt?" 

He turned around, and glared down at Sanji, who was taken unexpectedly aback. Armerind's free hand swept out, and pointed with the precision of a blade at Zoro's sleeping body. "You take good care of him. Do you understand?" 

Sanji nodded breathlessly, and waited without another word as Armerind shuffled quietly, heroically, out of their tent. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter Eleven

He wasn't hungry, and so he didn't eat. By the time the stars lit up in the sky, his stomach began to make gurgling sounds, and he knew it had been a bad decision. But Sanji had resolved to stay in that tent as long as it took, and so that was where he remained, drifting in and out of anxious little catnaps, propped up and curled just next to Zoro's sleeping body. 

By what must have been midnight, at least, the breath Sanji heard sounded smoother, less abrasive than before. Zoro even smelled better after whatever Armerind had done to him; he detected the aroma of something sharp and pleasantly grassy under the more pervasive scent of eucalyptus and aloe. He had heard once, that both of those natural plants were integral to survivalist medicine, but never had he cared enough to see such things in practice. For a great time he would wonder on what magic Armerind had done, while letting his thoughts drift lazily on a long-winded stream of consciousness.

It would have been easy to retreat to the other tent, curl up between Nami and Luffy, bury his face in her red hair and cop a feel if he weren't such a gentleman. But strange, less base desires compelled him to stick around. Loyalty and some wayward sense of duty; not just love, but the same thing that convinced him, without even an inkling yet of what Zoro was all about, to trust that he would do the same in a similar situation. 

So where did the line of nakama end, and lust begin? He had been wondering since the day of their first kiss, trying not to linger too much on such impertinent hows and whys. But, possibly to stave off loneliness, he kept himself in that contemplative little spot, in that contemplative little position next to Zoro, and kept his silent ruminations to himself, where they belonged. 

Hours passed and time refused to move. Sanji kept his eyes open as well as he could, fluttering with strobe glances through his eyelashes before he finally fell asleep completely, soundly, resting his head gently against the padded bandage on Zoro's shoulder. 

And in his dreams, Zoro was telling him a story. Armerind's story. 

Sanji's reality, Armerind's memories, Zoro's once and future fear. All the pieces he hadn't quite fit together in the puzzle of the day now joined in the night. He wanted to touch the Zoro in his dreams, wanted to tell him not to put on such a stoic, awful face. But then he realized that he wasn't there at all. Not with Zoro. Not in this dream's reality. Not anymore.  

"He died trying to protect me," this was Zoro's voice in his dream, and it was the same voice that Sanji had heard, oh-so-many-times. The same voice he had pondered over and let himself be angry for. If it made sense in his subconscious, his lucid self paused to wonder, would it still make sense when he awoke?

It was Zoro who had been trying to protect him, all this time. In the ship's galley, the day after their kiss. In the battle with the Marines that seemed so long ago. In Armerind's cottage just yesterday morning. Armerind's truth, Andi's history, Zoro had never heard, but it was the same thing that he always feared. Perhaps it was an ingrained warrior's instinct, then, because to hear him tell it, this was not an up-and-coming stimulus response. Zoro ran away from anything but a challenge, anything but that which could be easily defeated and overcome. Or at least he tried to. 

Protecting things was not in his nature, at least not on a level that became so personal as to involve his heart and not just his might. Those things, he ran from. 

Or at least he tried to. Some things just wouldn't let him do that.

It felt good to know it, even if it was just his subconscious mind weaving gossamer half-truths, and nothing that had been confirmed nor denied. It felt good to have a justification, and a basis on which to gauge himself. A reason to say 'thank you.' A badge of nobility to kiss on Zoro's heart.

 He was dead in this dream. Long gone, killed by his own love. But even in that dream of death, he smiled on Armerind's words, and didn't regret a moment of the time he'd spent on the _Going Merry, _on Betoni Island, trying to keep Zoro from running away.

When a nudge and a shifting beneath him greeted his waking mind, he found his eyes half-obscured by unspent tears as he groaned and slowly opened them. Zoro's voice was only speaking in annoyed grunts and murmurs, reacting to whatever leftover pain and wooziness might be gripping him now in the morning hours. But Sanji's heart still lifted to hear it. It finally meant he was still alive, no matter what assurances he had had before. 

Sanji opened his eyes halfway, a rose up a bit to watch Zoro lift one hand, place it against his forehead, and say, "I didn't die?" 

Those words, however much he cringed at the very thought, made Sanji want to cry all over again. It must have been Zoro's tone; that genuine surprise, and a slight twinge of regret. The sort of tone he wanted to hug him for at the same time he beat it out of him. "No. You didn't." 

A pause. Zoro's breath was sketchy. His eyes were only daring to open the slightest they could.

He wondered what he would say next. Something about Armerind, something about the duel? A question about who had tended to his wounds, or who had carried him down the hillside? Some snide remark about Sanji's baby-soft expression as he stared in relief? None of those things, in fact.

"Did we miss the sunrise?" 

This time, there were no instincts of machismo or resistance that could hold back the wellspring of tears from leaking out of Sanji's eyes. He leaned forward, careful not to let his exuberance jostle the dressings all over Zoro's body, and kissed him as hard as he could, a day and forever of worry and wonder flowing from between his lips.  

~*~*~*~  

And after that, Zoro became Zoro again. Slowly but surely, silent but surly. Sanji did his best, and at that point it wasn't as difficult as he had feared, to swallow back his romanticism and don his own mask of indifference and derision.

He didn't ask who had tended to his wounds; it seemed, in the back of his mind, that he knew. And Sanji wouldn't be the one to tell him. Armerind had chosen not to show his face again after that, and there was a strangeness about the way they both honored that embargo of communication. By mid-morning Sanji stood up from his half-eaten, early lunch, and announced that he was walking back to the ship to requisition some supplies. 

"Hm." Zoro acknowledged him disinterestedly, tipping back his bowl with one hand, eating as ravenously as one would expect from such a dire convalescent. 

"The others might not be better until tomorrow. We'll need to be ready with food and water for them." 

"Mm-hm." 

"Do you want another set of clothes, while I'm there?" It seemed logical. He was currently wearing shreds, more or less.

Zoro glanced up at him dubiously. "I think that goes without saying."

"Just making sure you were listening." Sanji muttered, waving his hand dismissively as he turned around and began to walk off. He glanced back over his shoulder, and took a moment to examine Zoro, wondering how the other persona had faded so quickly. _He's preparing, _Sanji rationalized with a sigh, _no use trying to make a snap change once the rest wake up. _He smiled to himself, and relished the fact that their secret was such a massive one. Even if the others - Nami with her quick intuition and Luffy and Usopp with their sometimes keen observations – noticed anything, they still wouldn't know the depth of what was going on. Not by a long shot. 

It was a tedious walk back to the _Going Merry_. Sanji trudged, hands in pockets, through the underbrush along the path, and tried his best not to think too much about whether the Zoro back at camp was the same Zoro who would ask to watch sunrises and kiss him to an orgasm. He knew the brief isolation had done wonders for softening the swordsman's impassive demeanor, but there was still the pang of premature melancholy in thinking those moments might be few and far between.

There would be other things to distract him once they were back at sea, of course. Perils and adventure, obligation to his other nakama, Nami and her increasingly scant bikinis. Even if the moments never happened again, Sanji knew that he would not be duty-bound to sit and mope about it. A deep breath of relief began within, and rose slowly to his lips. He sucked in the heavy jungle air and smiled as he exhaled. Comfort was his, whether romantic fulfillment or sincerity never would be. 

He stepped over a moss-eaten log and listened to the sound of the soft, moist foliage beneath his feet. He could see the clearing in the distance, not quite completely overgrown, facing the river that cut the small island in half. Beyond that, he knew, was the _Going Merry. _

"Is he well?" Armerind's voice suddenly invaded his quiet contemplation, and he looked up with only a bit of the shock that was his first instinct. 

Armerind was crouching in the limbs above him, moving with Sanji as he walked, quiet and agile as one of the tree monkeys that he had learned to ignore over the last few days.

"Quite. Thank you." His gratitude was gruff and short, but it was gratitude nonetheless, and that seemed good enough for Armerind. Sanji didn't bother to look up and verify if he smiled at it. 

"That's good. Have your nakama awoken?" 

"Not yet," Sanji kept walking, and Armerind kept following him through the trees, "I'm going to fetch some more food for when they do. And some clothes." 

"Good." Armerind stopped moving, and after a few paces Sanji stopped as well. Unnerved by the islander's pause, he looked back, and saw no one. Nothing but the leaves rustling in the wind. Nothing but the brilliant greens and subtle yellows of the jungle trees.  

A side of him wondered it Armerind had ever been there at all. 

~*~*~*~

"There," Sanji said, enjoying the first drag on what was quite possibly the most refreshing cigarette he had ever smoked in his life, "now I feel like my old self again." 

"Hm," Zoro mostly ignored him, glanced down at himself, and touched a spot on his haramaki. Just above his abdomen. Right where Armerind's sword had run him through. The most disturbing wounds were covered, but Sanji couldn't blame Zoro for lingering on them, "I hope they don't notice." 

"I'm still surprised that you agreed to my plan." 

"Well, you're right. It's best that they don't know," Zoro walked over to where Sanji was sitting, and fell into the sand nearby. Since that morning they'd been keeping an anxious distance; not a kiss, not a touch, not a stray glance that suggested there was anything to distract their thoughts beyond the assurance of everyone's well-being, "especially Luffy. He'd make a big deal about it, and it's no big deal at all." 

Sanji had to feel a warm sense of camaraderie at the half-smile that always decorated Zoro's face when he talked so candidly about their captain. Sanji knew the debt he owed to Luffy. In fact, he felt the weight of that debt himself. For Zoro, for his old friends, and for his own survival. 

"Yeah, you're right. Not a big deal," he smirked, and leaned back against a tree trunk. The shade kept him relatively cool, despite what had certainly turned out to be a sunburn over most of his body. He traced characters in the sand, wondering how he would explain away any apron-shaped tan lines to the women he was bound to be sleeping with at their next port of call. He didn't really like sex with the lights out, but it might turn out to be necessity, for the next couple of weeks at least. 

Not wanting to linger, he only shot a glance Zoro's way, and wondered if everything had been some long, beautiful dream. Since Armerind had left their tent, or maybe since Zoro had opened his eyes that morning, Sanji hadn't felt the same tightness in his chest or indecision in the pit of his stomach. This was the same he had always felt, in fact. Calm. Secure. A little annoyed by Zoro's curtness. But there were no romantic underpinnings to burden his thoughts, no coarse desires or hands that wanted to wander when they weren't invited. 

He wouldn't have turned down any such invitations, of course. But he felt confident enough now to know that they would come when they were meant to come. Never before, and never too late. It was never too late. After such a scare as last night's, he would wait on Zoro as long as he had to. 

Besides, Armerind's words were still buzzing like permanent feedback in his mind. Though his misgivings remained, and his insecurities chose the most inopportune times to assault his emotions, he'd die before he ever stood in the way of Zoro's ambition. 

After all, Zoro's ambition wasn't his to help or hinder. But Zoro's heart, he thought with a triumphant little smile, had the capacity to be all his in the very end. He just needed a little patience. 

"Oi, what are you smiling at?" Zoro suddenly groused, and leaned over to inspect Sanji's unconscious sand-scribblings. With a slight sigh of humiliation, Sanji noticed that he had doodled quite possibly the most inappropriate thing he could have at that moment. 

"Oh, boobs. Very mature." Zoro sighed, and Sanji quickly brushed the sand with his sleeve, destroying the thoughtless work of art.

"Hey, you have your interests, I have mine." 

Zoro didn't respond, and only slumped to the ground, leaning against Sanji's knees. Sanji expected another impromptu nap coming on from the swordsman. He rolled his eyes, anticipating the boredom that would follow. When he felt Zoro breathing into a comfortable position, he suddenly slid his legs away, and let him fall. "My legs are not a pillow." 

Zoro rubbed his head and sneered. "You've got that right. Maybe boobs _are _good for something." 

Though momentarily distracted by the very pleasant thought of falling asleep between a pair of lush C-cups, Sanji found the quickness to kick a spray of sand at Zoro's head. The swordsman leapt into an upright position and rubbed his head vigorously, growling in indignation as Sanji snickered to himself. He puffed on his cigarette and held it aside, ready to add insult to the injury. But in that moment Zoro wheeled on him and reached out, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him over into a headlock. 

Crying out at the violation of his personal space,  not to mention the loss of the last few moments of his recovery smoke, Sanji struggled valiantly, kicking and snarling as Zoro rolled him forward in the sand. 

And so it continued; not quite a fight, but not quite harmless wrestling. A few blows were exchanged, just light enough to keep from bruising, but just hard enough to remind one of how formidable the other was. By the time they pummeled their way to the shoreline, just shy of the tiny waves that lapped the sand, they were huffing and puffing, disheveled in all places, and staring at each other with matching smiles of accomplishment. 

Sanji, straddling Zoro from above, shoved his shoulders back into the sand. "I win," he pronounced firmly, and gasped a postscript, "bastard."

"No," Zoro glanced to the side slyly, and then reached up to bunch Sanji's shirt in his hands. He pulled him down hard, and Sanji knew better than to resist because he knew exactly what strategy his opponent meant to employ. Both their lips tasted of sand and saltwater as the mashed together, and somehow out of that they achieved a more pleasant kiss. Breaking it, letting go of Sanji's now-wrinkled fabric, Zoro smirked, "I win." 

"You're right, you win," Sanji leaned back, and mirrored his smugness as he chafed his groin against Zoro's harshly. Zoro was only surprised for a moment, "and you know what that means." 

"Get off of me," Zoro's face betrayed his words, "that hurts my stomach." 

"Liar," Sanji rasped, still grinning, his smile growing larger as his midsection began to follow suit, "you're not in anything that could be considered pain." 

"Ah, so you want me to throw you off of me, huh?" 

Sanji's eyebrows shot up in intrigue. He clamped his thighs around Zoro's hips firmly. The swordsman's face actually winced, not prepared for the strength of those particular muscles when it mattered. "I'd like to see you try."

Somehow this still wasn't the same as before. This was better. Less hurried, less frantic. Sanji didn't feel the overwhelming need to squeeze everything into one perfect moment. Though he wanted to spend another afternoon naked on the beach, Zoro's very presence seemed more of a turn-on when he thought a little longer. The way he was eyeing Sanji, brow furrowed, glare so sharp and hard it could cut diamond, still had an edge of something soft to it. Maybe that was the twinge of nakama. Or maybe it was that little bit more. He wouldn't worry about it right now. 

He couldn't, in fact, because just as Zoro opened his mouth to say something, they were interrupted. Luffy's voice was shrill, sonic, and insistent, announcing to the entire island of Betoni, "I'M SOOOOO HUNGRY!!!!!"

~*~*~*~

Five legs of mutton later, Luffy actually paused to speak. "We slept for two days? Sugeeeeee!" 

"I wonder what it was that we ate," Nami seemed more concerned, and Sanji feared with every second that she was on to their deceit. But she never seemed to glance over at Zoro, and seemed far more interested in the effects the unconsciousness had wrought upon her stomach, "I didn't feel strange when I fell asleep."

Usopp laughed hardily, "You were so drunk I'm surprised you felt anything by the time you fell asleep!" 

Nami's eyes flared in his direction. "I was not drunk! I was just…tipsy. But I was in perfect control of my actions!" 

"You kissed me." Luffy said between massive bites of meat. 

Everyone stared at Nami, who seemed just as shocked by the news. A moment of silence passed. 

"Nami-san?" Sanji whimpered, as if his heart were breaking. Nami waved in his direction and laughed, flipping her hair over one shoulder playfully.

"Sanji-kun, can't I show my exuberant love for my captain occasionally?" 

"On the lips!" Luffy grinned brightly and pointed at his mouth, "she also asked me to—"

"LUFFY!" Nami yelled, and silenced him with a firm slap to the back of the head. His hat floated to the sand as he fell face-first into a plate of steamed vegetables and rice.

Sanji noted with no lack of interest that Zoro was eating more of that particular dish than usual. 

"Besides, Sanji-kun, you probably had all sorts of fun while the rest of us were passed out." Nami's eyelids grew heavy and she shot Sanji her most sinister, beautiful glance. Both he and Zoro snapped to attention, and stared in silent speechlessness at the ship's navigator, who was currently pointing the crew on a straight course for mass hysteria. 

"What's that?" Luffy tore off the last bit of meat that hung to the bone in his hand, and wagged it warningly in Sanji and Zoro's direction, "did you guys go boar-hunting and cliff-diving? No fair, no fair! That's mean, not to include me!"

"You were passed out!" Sanji barked, as if the accusations were even true.

"Frankly, Nami, one more day alone with this asshole and I would've gone insane." Zoro muttered gruffly.

"Same here, baka." Sanji replied. They both looked in opposite directions and seethed quietly. 

"I'll take that as Zoro's way of saying he's glad to see us up and about," Nami smirked, and leaned over to snatch a baguette from Luffy's side of the makeshift picnic spread. Sanji's eyes drifted with her, and he took a longer-than-usual glance at her cleavage.

Nami noticed, and served him with a brief chastising scowl before she raised her voice to say, "So how is it, having sex with Sanji, Zoro?" 

Zoro spewed his rum as Usopp dropped the meat in his hands and gave an inhuman little shriek. Luffy went on eating, unfazed, and a little perplexed by the pandemonium. Sanji just blanched, feeling the color drain from even his sunburned skin as he stared at Nami, cigarette limp between his lips, helpless in front of her conniving smile. 

"Who do you think you are?!" Zoro screamed at her, brandishing a fist as if Nami would be threatened in the least.

"Nami, that's not even _funny_!" Usopp's face was one of utter terror. 

"Oi, Zoro, what IS it like?" Still chewing contentedly, Luffy was more or less oblivious.

"It's none of your business!" Zoro shrieked back, his voice growing higher in register and more frantic in tone as he rushed to defend himself. Sanji would have giggled, had he not been so shocked that their private affair was poised to be front-page news on the _Going Merry. _The wide-eyed expression and scarlet red blush on Zoro's face were just too hilarious to forget. 

"So it _is _true? YOU'RE HAVING SEX WITH SANJI?" Usopp's nasal yell announced it one more time, and suddenly Sanji wanted to disappear into his suit jacket, and not show his face again until everything had blown over. 

"So what's it like?" Luffy asked again.

"SHUT UP!" Zoro and Usopp both railed on him. Luffy was unfazed. 

"Don't you judge me, long-nose!" Zoro pointed firmly at Usopp.

"I'm not judging you! But Sanji? SANJI?" Usopp flailed wildly, even going so far as to point at Sanji for the full effect. Sanji momentarily considered biting his finger off, "Sanji likes _girls!"_

At this, Luffy's laughter was loud enough to break the argument down. As everyone turned to him with still-wild eyes, Luffy wiped his mouth and grinned. "You guys are so funny!"

It seemed a non-sequitur, only not really. Sanji glanced around, as Luffy continued to laugh, and was watching Nami when she joined him, unable to stifle her giggles anymore. 

Then Sanji remembered the flabbergasted look on Zoro's face, and felt his lips twitch up at the corners. He felt a pocket of air that might have been laughter forcing itself to the back of his throat. It finally found its way out, and indeed it was a laugh, though muted and muffled by the cigarette in his mouth. 

"Oi, Sanji." Zoro began, and Sanji would have expected him to follow up with something typically Zoro like 'are you going to take this?' or 'do we have to stand for such treatment?' But he didn't continue, stunned as Sanji turned to him, his face alight with cheerful, uncontrollable laughter. 

It was the first time any of them had laughed, long and hard, in days. Especially Sanji. For those brief moments it felt better than sex, more enlivening than orgasm. He stretched his arms out, grabbed both Zoro and Usopp about the shoulders, and pulled them close, their stubbornly stoic expressions only stirring more laughter in his throat. 

"…I mean," Luffy finally gasped for air, slapping his thigh, trying to explain himself. Finally he caught his breath, and threw his arms out wide, still giggling, "Sanji will have sex with ANYTHING!"

It was only because it was Luffy that Sanji only laughed harder, unable to take it as an insult no matter how it had been delivered, and what the circumstances of the moment had been. At this, Usopp joined in, and Zoro, as usual, was the only one left scowling in contempt of the moment. By the time tears were streaming down their cheeks, Luffy and Nami were leaning into each other to hold themselves up, and Sanji was clutching his sides in wonderful pain, Zoro actually muttered, "I guess there are times when you guys don't _completely_ annoy me."

Taking the surrounding din as a cover, Sanji quickly poked his nose against Zoro's sideburns, chiming his earrings with his breath as he whispered, chuckling, "I love you, too."

~*~*~*~

The _Going Merry _sliced through the ocean waves, heading due West toward Loguetown. The course so far from Betoni Island had been a very smooth one, despite a few frightening moments as they had navigated their way out of the river itself. Sleep came easily, and Sanji couldn't have been happier to feel the familiar lull of the sea coaxing him into slumber. 

It was a full ten hours later, but it felt like a scant five minutes, when he felt a firm shake jostle him awake. His eyes lurched open and he tensed in readiness for anything; the worst. But a familiar scent overtook his senses as Zoro's hand covered his mouth gently, and the swordsman appeared next to him, a finger to his lips, a subtly strict expression on his face.

He gestured for Sanji to follow, and Sanji did. 

The colors of the sky were already beginning to lift, but the dark indigo above them still twinkled with a million stars as they made their way to the deck. Silently, without looking back to make sure he was still following, Zoro walked to the stern and leaned casually against the railing, staring eastward.

"This is a better view anyway." Zoro murmured. 

Sanji rubbed his eyes, still not fully awake. 

After a few moments, Zoro glanced over at him, and, pulling a frustrated face, grabbed him by the arm. As Sanji protested softly, he found the swordsman's arms wrapping around him, his body warming him from behind, and a sharp, angular chin resting easily on his shoulder as the forced embrace turned to a languid, lazy one. Sanji leaned back into Zoro's body and sighed. 

"Hey, I just wanted to say—" he began, just as the first ray of light began to peek out over the endless horizon. 

Zoro's fingers fluttered over his lips and stopped him. "Shhh." He hushed him firmly, "don't you say a damn thing to ruin this." 

Squinting into the rising sun, Sanji smiled. "Okay, then." 

~*~*~*~

THE END


End file.
